Fire Emblem: From Darkness Unto Light
by Musing Soul
Summary: They said Time dulled all wounds. Yet, the more time that passed, the deeper the knife seemed to twist. Perhaps that was why she went back, to stop the knife digging deeper. Perhaps that was why I followed, casting my fate into the eddies of time. I was the Lady of Grima. The agent of the fall of mankind. The Exalt Chrom fell upon my sword. I cannot allow myself to be reborn.
1. Prologue: Out of the Darkness Steps

_**Prologue: From the Darkness Steps….**_

"My Lady..." The words, as always, were groveling, expecting a previous pain as a result of their utterance." We beg you reconsider." The woman turned, regarding the sniveling man, frozen eyes bright. Frightening intelligence, tempered by the determination resonating in those eyes.

"I have reconsidered." Her voice was unflinching. "No matter how I avoid, I wrangle, I struggle, the conclusion is inevitable." She closed her eyes. "I do not make my choice lightly." The untrained eye could clearly see the weight upon her shoulders.

"I understand that." The man sounded braver, seeming to understand his end was not nigh. "There must be another who could carry out the duty in your stead? The Lady of Naga will undoubtedly cross your path..." There was a pause. The man seemed to pale at the thought.

"I am aware of that." The woman's expression gained a measure of worry, before returning to cold indifference. "My journey is different from the perilous trek she undertook, and no different." The woman touched a hand to the blade at her hip. "I know what must change. And I will change it." The confidence did not extend to her eyes, if one was aware of how to look, but her companion remained ignorant. His eyes were downcast, almost those of a servant losing his master, an impression his deferential stance was quick to reinforce.

"Yes my Lady." The man knew the futile nature of his case, from the tone of her voice. "I shall prepare an honour guard." The woman shook her head once again.

"No. I make the journey alone." The command was absolute. Her brow furrowed. "I will not Damn another soul." The man did not miss the inflected capital letter. He bowed.

"Very well. Everyone wishes to see you a final time." His words in turn were commanding, and the woman did not refuse, offering a simple bow of her head in agreement, although her mouth thinned with displeasure.

 _ **-FE:FDUL-**_

Howling winds rose, a bitter challenge to the woman's presence. Aside from pulling her cloak tight, the woman gave no indication of noticing the natural assault. Cold was a small impediment, not worthy of notice, in comparison to the trails in her past.

Certainty of purpose was a shield almost as great as plated forged in dragon's fire, the woman thought. For a brief moment, she was assailed by memories of those wars that foisted such lessons upon her. The howling wind provided the small mercy of drowning the remembered voices.

"Halt!" The booming command shattered her reverie. Eyes draining of feeling, the woman turned toward the speaker. She had no time for sure idiocy.

A Hero, wielding a great sword, stuck a figure most would have found terrifying. For her part, the woman was unimpressed. Years of war had left her immune to such petty posturing. "Who are you?" The Hero demanded. The woman gave a snarl of annoyance under her breath.

Flipping the hood of her cloak back, the woman leveled a glare. Black smoke welled up within her eyes, burying the natural grey in moments, writhing with her inner rage. The Hero backpedaled, fear flaring in his eyes.

"I am sorry my Lady." He dropped to one knee. "My life is yours." The woman growled, flicking her wrist. A snap of energy lit the windswept peak momentarily, and the man was sent flying. Without a word, the woman continued her trek.

She encountered no further resistance as she entered the shrine. Ancient magics beyond the ken of any living mage pushed back at her very presence. The walls of the room lit with runes, a visible sign of the temples displeasure.

"Sanctum." The woman mumbled, flicking her wrist, a long earned tick of casting magic. Energy danced over her cloak, runes imbued with an equally ancient power fighting the shrines guardians, before fading from the visible spectrum. The woman bowed her head, advancing to stand before the Altar.

From beneath her cloak, she produced a shield, five points gleaming on the metal.

"Naga." The woman's voice was rough. "Divine Dragon. I beg your ear." The runes on her cloak flared orange under renewed assault. "Seized from your champion I return to its rightful home." Magic of her own rising the woman floated the shield to rest upon the Altar, before closing her eyes.

Only the sharpest eye would have noticed the tremor in the woman's fingers as she knelt, hands clasped before her. The wards on the temple flared with rage, unable to bear the idea of the woman paying homage within their walls, redoubling the force of their assault.

"Naga! By the ancient covenant submit myself to judgment! I lay before you the Emblem of your champion, and my blackened soul. I ask neither honor nor mercy, only fairness in your judgement." The woman took a readying breath. "Naga! Once before I stood before this altar as the Falchion shone with Divine might again. Now, I return the Emblem of your Champion, slain-."

"By your hand, Fellblood." The sudden presence in the room was stifling. Gasping the woman lowered her hands, eyes closing. Tears pricked at their corners.

"Yes." The word struck with force, both upon Naga, and the woman.

"Most surprising, Fellblood. You accept the action as your own." The woman shook her head, unwilling to meet the eyes of the one called to be her judge.

"It was my hand, my spell. _He_ might have influenced my action, but that does little to diminish my role." Her voice cracked. "I understand and accept that fact."

"So you do." The words were amused, more than anything. "And you feel this absolves you of crime?" The woman responded, gesturing violently. Magic hissed and spat as the temples wards lashed out, detecting the rage, and rising in attempt to strike down the intruder. The woman's cloak blazed with light as her protective runes rose to the challenge.

"NO!" The woman exploded. "Do not," she hissed leaning forwards, posturing shifting from shame to anger, "ever, insinuate that again." The woman rose to her feet, cloak flapping in an unseen magical gale. Naga regarded her with cold indifference, unimpressed by the display. "Nothing will absolve me of crime." The woman spat, hand falling to her blade. "A thousand years might pass, and that won't change." The temple's wards howled, their assault falling upon a wall of magic, the woman's cloak shining with incredible brilliance. "I cannot sum the lives lost as a result of me." The woman glared at the goddess. "I see I was wrong to come here." Magic blazed nearly white, interspersed with black tendrils, the first sign the woman was losing her control. "I leave you the Emblem, and the knowledge that while I will destroy every aspect of _him_ , I will not hesitate to paint you just as much the villain." The woman spun to leave. The temples wards glowed white along the walls, ancient runes spewing magic into the night, as determined to end the woman as ever.

"Wait, Fellblood." Naga's tone was gentler. "Your heart is black with loathing." The goddess paused. "Your soul writhes under the weight you place upon it." The woman paused midstep. "Regret. Rage. Abandonment. Sorrow. Despair. Your agony must have tasted wondrous just after his awakening." The woman snorted, her lips twisting into a pale mockery of a smile. The black fire in the magical typhoon around her flickered in delight.

"My soul bled dry." Was the only response. Naga bowed her head.

"Yes." Naga was silent. "You have lost your strings." The meaning was not lost on the woman. "What boon do you seek, Fellblood?" There was an obvious battle within the woman, between the sensible side of her, that knew leaving was the better course, and the idealist, that wanted to stay. The idealist seemed to prove victorious.

The woman faced Naga squarely, eyes flint chips. "The Falchion's bearer is back, at the beginning." Naga nodded. "She lacks knowledge that will prove vital." Naga didn't move. "Send me back." Naga frowned, her own eyes turning cold.

"She is not within this continuum, Fellblood." The woman waved an impatient hand, expression cold, seeing an evasion for what it was.

"Spare me. She was sent back. Although the continuum is different the chronology is the same. Events will, if unaltered, play out the same. She lacks enough knowledge to write a different page." The woman retorted. She had come too far to be balked now, when within the cusp of victory. Years of refining her arguments would not be wasted on such a trivial thing.

Naga frowned. "Knowledge you have?" The dubious note in the divine beings voice was apparent. The woman flicked her hair, a motion of impatience, and annoyance.

"At risk of sounding arrogant, yes. She doesn't have the knowledge of how your Champion died, for example. I can go on for days with knowledge she lacks." The woman spoke with conviction. "This is not a flippant request, Divine Dragon."

"No. You have considered it often. Nearly since he cast you aside." The woman laughed, a bitter, marrow chilling sound. Naga shifted her weight, obviously uncomfortable. "Suppose I agree, Fellblood. How might I know your sincerity?" The woman spread her hands.

"In the same way you know the purity of your Champion's heart." Naga's eyebrows arched. "Although I will omit the bit about making me your true son or daughter." There was a note of dry amusement. "I imagine my blood is too tainted for magic to like such a pronouncement."

"A bold claim. One that will undo you." To the goddesses surprise the woman released another bone chilling laugh.

"Unless you burn away the very soul, I have known worse pain." Her eyes closed. "Be done with it." The command was final. Naga bowed her head, knowing the woman's will was unbending, and wishing she did not have to doom the last chance for an entire world's survival.

"So be it Fellblood." She rumbled. Magic swelled, a Divine crescendo building.

The woman's muscles snapped taught from pain. Naga watched, impassive on the surface, as the woman's eyes narrowed, focusing upon the Divine Dragon, never losing clarity or intensity. Slowly the woman stepped forwards, once them twice. Naga clamped down upon her surprise. Dozens had endured the ritual of Awakening, and none of them had been able act beyond screaming while undergoing it.

"He described this to me once." The words were conversational. "I admit his words understated that feeling."

"Few Champions of mine have led lives as yours." Naga point out, watching the woman relax, the pain having subsided. The Divine Dragon was awed by the woman, although the emotion did not show upon her face. Few could face the trial of Divine Fire without so much as flinching, and fewer still without the slightest notion of pain.

"Indeed." Naga mused. "I shall grant your request, Fellblood. My Champion's daughter shall arrive a short time after your arrival in the timeline." The woman nodded. "Also, a gift, Fellblood." Naga closed her eyes. A musical roar filled the room, alongside a nimbus of magical power. The runes along the temples walls flared to life, as did the runes on the woman's cloak. Both defenses, however went unused, as the magic pooled inwards, as opposed to outward.

A brilliant white flash filled the chamber, revealing a blade suspended by magic. The woman's eyes widened. Even from a distance, she knew that blade by sight, without question. Although many decades had passed since she last saw one, the pale radiance of the bone white weapon casting odd shadows about the room.

"Falchion." She murmured. Naga nodded.

"Falchion. The mark of my Champions, Fellblood." The woman stared. "By bond not by blood I name you a wielder." The Dragon bowed. "You have earned my respect Fellblood. Carry my blade with honour." The woman bowed in return.

"Thank you." It was clear from the tone that woman didn't find herself worthy of such a weapon.

"Indeed." A whirlwind of white grew between them. "I wish you luck Fellblood, on your quest. Watch over them." Naga murmured, as the woman vanished in a swirl of white.


	2. Chapter One: The Tactician

Chapter One: The Tactician…..

I had to have been hit in the head. There was no other explanation for the throbbing headache.

"There are better places to sleep than on the ground, you know." The voice was male, calm and collected, but amused. I blinked twice, waiting the stinging sensation that accompanied the light to fade away. Above me, a man and a woman were bent, hands on their knees. The man offered me a kind smile and his hand. "Give me your hand." I accepted the offer, using the easy leverage to rise to my feet. A quick glance around told me only one other person was present, although he cut a fairly intimidating figure, clad in full armor, and a withering glare upon his features.

The other two people were somewhat more interesting figures. One was clad in what appeared to be a sleeveless tunic, and a single pauldron, which anchored a white cloak of some variety. The woman was younger, with blonde hair, and a yellow dress with a skirt that flared to the point of insanity. How could she manage to sit wearing that, I wondered to myself?

"Thank you Chrom." I stopped, frowning at the name. How did I know that? It was as if when I opened my mouth to speak, the words had simply happened, without the mental process behind them.

"Ah, so you know who I am?" The man, Chrom, if my apparent memory was to be believed, sounded surprised, and pleased. I shook my head, feeling frustrated by my inability to determine if my own memory was accurate.

"No. Well, yes? I don't know." I paused, trying to wrap my head around the phenomena. Chrom frowned, unsure what to make of a situation I had no clue what to make of either. "Your name just sort of jumped out at me."

"I see." Chrom paused, before giving a small shrug. "What is your name? And what might bring you to forgetful unconsciousness in the middle of a field?" Both seemed like excellent questions on his part, but the more I considered what he said, the more I realized that, it was just flat an excellent question.

"My name is…" I paused, trailing off, "As unknown to me as my reason for being here." Now that wasn't right. Why in the blazes wouldn't I remember my own name? That defied all logic. More than defied even. Laughed at. I could feel the scowl twisting at my lips as I puzzled over this new mystery.

"Hey!" The young woman standing next to Chrom pipped up. "I've heard of this! It's called amnesia!" She sounded quite proud of that recollection. I considered. Amnesia made some degree of sense, the problem being the source. One did not simply forget their entire life without good reason. Even sharp blows to the head did not cause such blanket forgetfulness. A sharp blow the head could further be discredited because, while a blow to the head could knock one's memory about, such a blow would leave more evidence than a headache.

For a moment, I pondered if magic might be responsible. Even that explanation did not hold water however. Magic was powerful, yes, but the most complex the operation, the more power it drained, and altering the mind was generally agreed to be the most complex of operations. Massive armies of mages would be needed for such an undertaking.

"What it's called," The armored man retorted, expression severe, "Is a load of peagsus dung. We're to believe you remember Milord's name, but not your own?" I faced him, meeting the man's eyes. There was a deep degree of skepticism there. That was a feeling at least, I could understand. Chrom…I knew his name, but not why this man called him Lord. None the less, that would suggest that this person was a bodyguard, and it was his job to be cautious.

"While, from your perspective, I can understand the implausibility sir, I quite assure you, it is the truth. A frustrating truth at that." The man remained unconvinced, I could see in his eyes. Despite his lack of trust, I could not bring myself to be angry with the man. Hell, I could understand the feeling fine, based on what I could guess about the positions of the various people.

"What if it is the truth Fredrick?" Chrom challenged. "What sort of Shepherds would we be then?" The armored man, Fredrick remained unswayed by Chrom's words, although I could see that the young woman was more than sold already.

"Just the same I must emphasize caution." Fredrick replied without rancor. It would not do to let a wolf into our flock." Chrom frowned, and nodded, seeing wisdom. I didn't dispute the logic in the man's words, after all, in his shoes, I would probably ply the same logic. Shaking my head, I cursed the confusion this situation brought. How the hell was it that I found myself arguing against someone offering me help?

"Very well." Chrom nodded, although I could see in his eyes his inclination to trust my word. "We'll hear her out when we get back to town." He gave me a quick look, and I nodded, seeing not reason to object to that plan. The extra time a journey into town would take provided me time to figure out what might have happened to me, and see if more memories cropped up, or at the very least, puzzle out the reason.

With the plan of attack obviously settled, Chrom turned, leading the way off towards what could only be the town her spoke of. The young woman followed him, and Fredrick followed me. I could almost feel the point of the man's spear pressed against the small of my back.

"Where are we?" I asked after some minutes of silence, and a total lack of landmarks to allow me a way to even attempt to jog my non-existent memory. Mentally, I swore again, this entire exercise was getting more and more ridiculous by the second.

"You've never heard of the halidom? Ha! Someone pay this actress. She plays quite the fool! The furrowed brow is especially convincing." I felt compelled to make a snappish remark, but held my tongue. Although I could feel the weight of a sword at my hip, I was not about to gamble myself in a fight such as would be started. Fredrick struck me as a fearsome warrior, and not the sort I wished to earn the ire of. At least, not when others could join the battle

Chrom gave an overdramatic eye roll. "Fredrick." Done chiding his subordinate, Chrom focused on me. "This land is known as the Halidom of Ylisse. Our ruler," I noticed a large amount of pride in those two words, "Emmeryn, is known as the exalt. I suppose proper introductions are in order. As you already know, my name is Chrom. The delicate one here is my little sister Lissa." Lissa, for her part, seem indignant. I couldn't imagine why, her frame was rather frail, and I doubted she'd be able to lift a sword if handed one.

"I'm not delicate!" The protest seemed more by rote than anything, and I found a brief flicker of amusement in the sibling banter. "Ignore my brother," She advised me, "He can be a bit dense sometimes. Still, I'm glad the Shepherds are the ones who found you. Bandits would have been a rude awakening." That went without saying. Waking up with a sword, or something else, down my throat would have been unpleasant.

One thing about her statement stuck out however. "Shepherds. You tend sheep. In full armor." I voiced my disbelief, giving a gesture to Fredrick, and his full plate. Chrom's lips quirked. The feeling I was being taken for a fool became more and more apparent.

"Heh. It's a dangerous job. Just ask Fredrick the Wary here." Well, that title fit the man, for sure. He was nothing if not wary, which I couldn't help but approve of, despite not having known these people half an hour. The man himself inclined his head.

"A title I shall wear with pride. After all, gods forbid one of us exercise something resembling caution." He gave me a somewhat conciliatory nod. "I have every wish to trust you, stranger, but my station demands otherwise." I waved the words away.

"I understand sir. Your actions are no different than my own would be in your shoes. My name is Robin." I jerked, wondering where that had come from. I was certain the fact of the matter was correct. Yet why did I only remember now. "Peculiar. One mystery solved in favor of two more." I muttered, scratching my head. This situation as making less and less sense as time went on..

"Robin?" Chrom nodded. "We're almost to town, we can discuss things more there." I nodded.

"Chrom! The Town!" Lissa's voice was panicked. Chrom, Fredrick and I jumped, looking up to the sigh of buildings engulfed in flame. Chrom let out a curse. I winced. The plume of fire was rising high above the distant buildings. I knew in an instant only magic could produce such a blaze.

"Blasted brigands! Fredrick, Lissa, quickly!" He shouted, starting to run.

Fredrick frowned. "What about Robin?" he shouted back. Chrom shouted over his shoulder in reply, never breaking stride.

"Unless she's on fire, or can fight, I believe she can wait!" I watched Chrom vanish into the houses, Fredrick and Lissa not far behind. Taking a deep breath, I considered what to do. On one hand, helping Chrom and company was best. On the other, I figured running for the hills was quite reasonable, before Fredrick ended me.

"Oh hell with it." I muttered, grabbing the sword from inside my cloak, and running after. No doubt, Fredrick would lose his marbles when I appeared with a sword, but there was a time and place for everything, and I was sure the man knew that. If not, well, I trusted Chrom to know.

The thick smoke made it hard to follow Chrom and company into town, but the sound of shouting and screams led towards the area of town where Chrom Fredrick and Lissa were preparing to square off against a small group of bandits.

I arrived with enough time to quickly take stock of the situation, and winced. Even including me, the bandits had the numerical advantage, enough to make the fight a messy one. As it stood, I could pick on the still bleeding corpses of several villagers, and no doubt several bandits, based on their garb.

"Chrom!" I skidded to a halt, somehow keeping my footing, and not impaling myself with my blade. The man turned, giving me an incredulous glance, before catching sight of my sword.

"Robin? What are you doing here?" He demanded. I arched an eyebrow, taking a quick look around.

"You look like you need all the help you can get, and I know my way around a battlefield." I paused. "Assuming you want the help?" Chrom rolled his eyes.

"There is strength in numbers, and the extra hand would be appreciated." Chrom gave a nod. I flashed him a grim smile, before twirling my sword into a more comfortable grip. "Swords and magic? I'm impressed." I paused, placing a hand, I would have called it memory, but I certainly did not remember, on the tome hanging from my hip.

"I would save praise until the battle is over." I replied. Fredrick gave a nod, his wary gaze skewering me.

"Robin is quite correct, we face bandits and worse. No quarter should be shown, for they will give us none." The knight smiled in my direction, albeit grudgingly. There was no more time for words, however, as a bandit came charging around the remains of a wall. I flicked my wrist, feeling the surge of magic as I channeled a spell I was reasonably sure I had no recollection of learning.

With a battlecry, Chrom charged. I focused, left arm snapping straight, with a shout, and the mental invocation. Bright yellow energy burst from my hand, flying towards the bandit, who with a surprised yelp, took the blast full on, staggering, obviously heavily wounded. Chrom, meanwhile removed the man's head with a smooth strike.

"Time to die!" A bandit came barreling from the other direction, bearing down on Lissa with a raised axe. Before I could finish another spell, Fredrick kicked his horse into motion, lance leveled. I saw the bandits eyes widen in terror as he realized his impending doom.

With a roar more fitting an angered bear, Fredrick bowled the bandit over, his lance shearing through flesh with an ease the bordered on comical, and removing the bandits head in a fountain of blood and gore.

"Come on!" I gestured for Fredrick to go the other way around the wall, while leading Chrom around. Two more bandits charged as soon as the two of us appeared. I rolled around the axe of the first, coming up surprisingly smooth, to drive my sword square into the chest of the second. A brief clash of metal followed by a pained scream told me the end of the bandit had come. Fredrick appeared, lance dripping blood, and with something that seemed to starkly resemble a human stomach dangling a bit further down the shaft. Lissa followed him, eyes wide.

I quick glance told me that there were no other bandits about, which was good. Chrom gave a nod towards me.

"I'd say my initial assessment of your skill is spot on." Chrom told me with a nod. "You fight well." I gave him a nod. Fredrick cantered over to Chrom and I, and Lissa trailed behind running a critical eye over the pair of us, white knuckled hands griping her staff.

"Three more of them guard the bridge." Fredrick reported. I frowned. Three on three was bad odds in my book. "One of them looks to be a mage as well." Oh. That changed things.

"What you thinking about Robin?" Lissa piped up. I frowned.

"Three on three, especially when one of them is a mage, is not a good time." I replied, frowning. Fredrick gave me a searching look.

"Why not? You yourself are a mage?" Fredrick pointed out. His tone indicated he felt as if I had finally been caught in a lie. I shook my head.

"Yes and no, Sir Fredrick." I replied. "I am versed in magic, but I will never equal the skill of a true mage, as I have not devoted to my life to the study of the art." I smirked a bit. "Of course, I'm much more able to defend myself in a fight." I shook my head. "In a straight fight, most mages will have the magical upper hand against me, assuming I fight in that field." I shook my head, moving to peer around the ruins of another wall. Two bandits with blade, and one mage. I frowned.

"Fredrick. How fast can you cover the distance to those two?" I asked. The armored man frowned.

"A few seconds, no more, if I let my horse get a run up." He replied. I nodded slightly.

"Alright. Chrom, you'll have to handle the second swordsman. I'll tangle with the mage." I twirled my sword.

"Robin?" Lissa sounded concerned. "Didn't you just say you would lose a fight with a mage?" I shook my head.

"If I only use magic yes." My lips quirked. "But, the best way to ensure Fredrick here does not become a blood splatter is to make that mage's spell blow up in his face."

"Ah!" The knights eyes gleamed, and he seemed to understand my plan. He wheeled his horse, aiming to get the distance for a good run up. Chrom placed a hand on my arm, his voice serious.

"Don't do anything dangerous Robin. You have lent us your strength, and in my books that marks you as a friend. Regardless of what Fredrick says." I gave him a brief grin. I didn't enjoy the bloody work of today, but the adrenaline was pounding in my veins left me almost giddy. The back of my left hand, crawled with anticipation of more bloodshed.

"I won't." I told him, flexing my fingers around the hilt of my sword. "We all will come out of this just fine." He nodded, eyes narrowing. I turned, giving Fredrick a nod to indicate he could charge whenever. The knight have a shout, and kicked his horse to a full gallop, lance gleaming in the fires. I turned, calling magic to my hand. The spell formed in my palm, casting odd shadows in the immediate area. I pushed my energy into it, repeating a stabilizing mantra over and over in my head. The energy in the spell continued to build as Fredrick charged past, drawing the immediate attention of all three bandits. The mage raised a hand, a ball of wind forming. I resisted the urge to smirk.

I stepped around the wall, unleashing my own blast of magic, which outpaced Fredrick's charge to smite the mage with all the fury of an angry god.

The impact was terrific, with arcs of lightening flying in all directions and the mage being thrown almost thirty feet back, his body scorched black and twitching. I felt vaguely sick just watching, and made a note to avoid going anywhere near that body. I didn't want to know the extent of the damage.

Fredrick, meanwhile bowled over his bandit, the silver head of his lance cleaving through without a pause. Chrom charged the third and final bandit, engaging in a quick and dirty sword fight, which lasted only a moment. I followed the duo to the bridge, where I was able to see the last bandit. Lissa's soft footsteps followed close behind.

He was a thoroughly unpleasant fellow, wielding a rusty axe, and leering in our direction. Most of his clothing, if it could even be called that, had probably not been washed in the better portion of a month. With a start, I realized he only had a sparse few remaining teeth. Chrom glared.

"Scum." Fredrick mumbled. Chrom nodded. Lissa cringed, from the corner of my eye. I gripped my sword tightly.

"Gang up on him?" I suggested." Fredrick gave a nod, Chrom frowned, something Fredrick seemed to pick up on at once.

"My Lord, this is not time for compunctions of honour. They would have no such qualms in battle against you or me." The knight reasoned. Chrom grudgingly nodded, and the four of us advanced, Fredrick and Chrom taking the lead, while Lissa and I hung back. I got the impression the young woman wasn't much of one for fighting, although she seemed to have some skill with healing magic if the glowing stave in her hand was an indication.

The bandit leader leered as we approached. He brandished his axe, cackling delightedly. "Here sheepy sheepy." The man rasped out, sounding rather like he was missing some of his vocal chords. "Come to the slaughter!" With that, he charged, weapon raised.

I flicked my wrist releasing my pent up spell. This man, however was smarter than the previous lot, diving to the side of the magical blast, which spared him just long enough to be introduced to the sharp end of Chrom's sword, which divested him of his head. Lissa turned away from the gore, and I had to bite back bile. The fountain of blood from the severed appendage was, in a dry and clinical fashion, impressive, flying well over a foot across the stones.

"That seems to be the last of them." I looked around, seeing no further evidence of brigand roaming the small village, a belief reinforced by the sight of several villagers poking their heads from the smoke.

"Doesn't mean more aren't lurking in the shadows." Chrom pointed out, glancing around. I nodded in agreement.

-FE:FDUL-

As it happened, I was spared any interrogation for quite some time, as we split into two groups, Lissa and I, and Chrom and Fredrick, to try and canvas the town for further bandits.

"You really don't remember anything?" Lissa asked me for what had to be the dozenth time. I hadn't bothered to count, in truth, but my estimate seemed reasonable.

"No, Lissa, I don't remember anything beyond what I've told you." I repeated myself once more, hoping the girl would figure it out. I didn't mind Lissa's company exactly, but her repeated questions had worn on my patience, especially since there hadn't been more bandits to fight, and burn off the raging adrenaline in my system.

"I know I know…" Lissa shook her head as I glanced back in her direction. "It's just that you're so awesome! You can fight with swords, and use magic, and you understand tactics!" I shook my head. Lissa was getting way too excited by all of this. The grisly work of war was never worth being excited for.

"And what does your mind say, MI' lord?" Fredrick's challenge to Chrom signaled that we had made a full circle through the village. Chrom's response came sharp and certain, and I had no doubt they were talking about me. After all, I was a point of contention between the pair, with Chrom seeming to have no problem trusting me, and Fredrick meanwhile, taking the directly opposite stance.

"She risked her life for Ylissean lives Fredrick." Chrom's voice was calm, and decisive. "Besides, the Shepherds are in desperate need of someone with Robin's skills." Fredrick obviously couldn't argue with that logic, and fell silent. Chrom turned towards me, obvious having heard us approach.

"What do you say Robin? Would you join the Shepherds as our tactician?" He asked with far more accepting a smile than the stern glare on Fredrick's. Although taken aback by the offer, I had no reason to refuse, and if I was to be honest with myself, every reason to accept.

"I would be honored." I told him with a slight bow.


	3. Chapter Two: The Fallen One

**Chapter Two: The Fallen One….**

The feeling of being hurled through time was one I made a solemn vow never to repeat again. With a brilliant flash, I exploded back into the moral coil, set upon a collision course with a nearby tree.

Before I had time to curse divine beings for attempted murder, I smashed full force into the oak. Years of life as the container of a god had given me the unique understanding that I wasn't going to lose in this impact, although it wasn't not going to be especially fun. I had a brief flash of solid unforgiving rock racing to meet me just before I slammed into the wood.

Bone breaking was also a sensation I sought to never repeat. The tree, meanwhile, snapped with a resounding crack, along with at least three of my ribs, my left arm, and possibly my lower spine. I howled in pain, as momentum sent me rolling over the forested earth, sending fresh blasts of pain from my newly shattered bones.

"Ouch." I closed my eyes, shutting out the pain, and focusing on the well of magic deep inside. For anyone else, the injuries I had suffered would be nothing short of lethal, unless the happened in the presence of a healer with a majorly powerful staff. For better or worse, I was not a normal person.

My vision clouded, coloring a deep grey as magic suffused my system. I groaned as that power raced to defend its host, pouring into my back and ribs first, resulting in a skin crawling feeling as bone knit together, and in some cases no doubt was completely reformed. Pain, as well, accompanied that feeling, and I bit the inside of my check.

"Chrom?" A female voice asked. "There's someone over here…and they don't look to be in good shape." I blinked twice, feeling the magic running through my body fade, returning color to my vision. The restored visual clarity and lack of agonizing pain, allowed me to look around. A woman was standing near me, a hand invisible beneath the folds of a cloak, no doubt upon a sword. Her purple hair and build made me pause, especially the cloak. The garment was a near perfect match to me own, if substantially less worn, and missing the layers of magically stitched runes. It had been years since I beheld my own reflection, her angular face matched my recollection of my own quite well.

"What?" There was a note of exasperation in the voice of Chrom, Prince of Ylisse. That, at least, gave me an idea what period in time I had landed in. Chrom's voice was young enough I was quite certain he hadn't become Exalt yet. That meant Emmeryn was still alive, which suggested that I had come back some years before even when I had anticipated.

"I don't know." The woman before me replied over her shoulder. I groaned, pulling my legs under me to stand. "Are you alright?" The woman asked me, expression worried. I stood, careful to make sure my limbs were in good condition, in the most discrete manner I could. Having to explain that I could regenerate from most wounds was not the best way to introduce myself.

"I've been worse." I replied, careful to keep my voice neutral. "Nothing a decent night's sleep and meal won't cure." Chrom stepped into view at this point, giving me a critical once over. His sharp eyes were the same as ever.

"Not often I see a traveler say they aren't worse for the wear when they look as you do." There wasn't rancor in those words, just observation. I nodded. Having just been throwing through a dimensional portal into a tree, I supposed his assessment was fair, although I supposed he would suspect I simply lost a fight with a bear.

"I confess that I am far from an average traveler milord, but I appreciate the backhanded compliment none the less." I told him. Chrom arched an eyebrow. Giving a mental curse, I realized I was going to have to be careful with my handling of the situation, as Chrom was not known for being especially perceptive, but his memory was known to be quite sharp.

"Far from the average traveler?" He asked, sounding morbidly curious, sending a short glance at his companion. There was as hint of suspicion in her eyes, and Chrom seemed concerned as well. Not a good start, I decided to myself.

"Yes. I'd be more than happy to answer any questions you have, but I'd rather appreciate a meal to come with it, milord." Chrom considered. I could tell he seemed to have no objection, there was no conflict in his eyes.

"Food was what we were looking for when I found you." The woman pointed out. "Never mind that you seem to be making an assumption that seems a bit unfair." I gave a slight nod. Whoever this woman was, she was sharp.

"Normally I'd be willing to offer benefit of the doubt, but it's be a long enough day that I'm not sure I want to make that offer." Chrom admitted. I swore.

In Grima's name. The one day I run into Chrom he's not feeling charitable. "I understand." And I did. Not, however, that I liked it. But I did understand it. The woman's lips thinned.

"So you wouldn't have a problem telling us what you are doing out in the wood, looking worse for the wear." She remarked. That, I realized, was statement not request.

"Of course." I replied easily. However, I had to stall for time. My vague half formed story for this would not hold up, I suspected. "However, I suspect this is not to place to have this conversation?" Chrom gave a slight nod at that.

"I will concede that much at least." He allowed. "None the less stranger, I find myself less than inclined to trust you." His companion's eyes remained cold. Sparks danced about her palm. A lightening mage then. That wasn't to much of an issue in and unto itself, but I didn't want fight.

"I understand my lord." That said, I could not see why. I wasn't visibly armed, and I hadn't made any sort of threatening move. Still, his caution was wise.

"Food first. Then Frederick can work her over if you want Chrom." The woman offered. Her magic was sparking and cracking about her hand, suggesting impatience. Not good, I thought to myself. This woman was just as likely to kill me as let me live.

Chrom considered, his eyes guarded. "That is fair. Tell me traveler, have you seen game in about?"

I frowned. From my perspective, it had been years since this portion of Ylisse had been home to any variety of wildlife, and I had never frequented the area, leaving me with little reference as to what might live present. Never mind the sharp change of subject.

"I can't say that I have." I admitted. "I admit that surprises me, this forest seems quite alive, so the lack of game is odd."

"Hm." The woman frowned, drumming her fingers against the hilt of her blade. A nervous motion, in anyone else, I thought, except that she wasn't nervous. She was ready for battle. My own senses were on high alert, as I took in the calm and collected posture. Chrom as well was tense, his hand resting close to the hilt of the Falchion.

In the distance, a bear gave a deep throated roar. "That sounds like a bear…" The woman trailed off. Chrom snorted, shaking his head.

"And do either of you have a clue how to kill a bear?" He pointed out, tone dry. The woman's eyes narrowed at him, but I caught a hint of agreement in her.

"Easy. Stick a sword in it." I replied, curious to see how they responded. Chrom groaned, and shook his head again.

"That is obvious." Chrom's companion retorted. "However, you are lacking a sword…." Goddamnit woman. "And unless Chrom has a difference idea, us getting close enough to a bear to stab it seems a risky proposition."

I shrugging, tapping the fire tome hidden within my cloak, channeling just a bit of magic into it. "As long as you aren't an idiot, stabbing bears isn't too hard. If we find one, I'll keep it busy so you too can skewer it." I retorted.

"The person who looks like they lost the fight with a bear already says they will distract the bear. Brilliant." Chrom sounded amused and frustrated all at once.

"I have plenty of magic left over to patch myself back together. And I didn't lose a fight with a bear." I replied, waving a hand. This at least gave me a chance to provide them some information without being interrogated. Chrom gave me a stare that suggested that he wasn't too convinced.

"Then what exactly did you lose a fight with?" The woman demanded, her lack of belief much more apparent. For a moment, I blushed, and was glad that the other two were behind me, and thus were unable to see.

"A tree." Chrom gave a loud guffaw, and I heard his companion hit herself in the face. Internally, I decided that this situation had little potential to get more humiliating.

"Good job." Chrom shook his head, before growing serious. "That bear sounds awful close." He added as the bear let out another terrific roar, this time much closer.

"Then if you want a bear, I suggest we start moving My Lord?" I suggested, looking to Chrom. The Lord nodded. His companion meanwhile fixed me with a calculating gaze. Releasing a small sigh, I followed Chrom as he set out after the bear. I heard more than saw his companion's sword draw behind me.

Our strange little procession approached the bear in silence. I could almost feel her sword against my back. Chrom seemed to ignore the animosity she displayed, moving with a surprising grace. As the bear came into view, Chrom slowed down letting me take the lead. Fire sparked in my hand.

The bear itself wasn't a large one, I noted upon entering the clearing. Brown, and very angry, the beast was smaller than most specimens I had seen, although that didn't stop me from feeling a rush of instinctive adrenaline. Somewhere in the back of my head, I laughed, wondering how such wildlife could elicit such a reaction from someone who had faced down angry gods.

I glanced at Chrom and his companion, who had by now moved around the edges of the clearing, and mercifully had escaped the notice of the bear, which was growling at me. I smirked, just a bit. Magic pulsed in my hand, almost begging to be released.

"Game over." I whispered, raising my left hand, and releasing a small bolt of fire. Not large enough to do much damage, but strong enough to make it madder. The bear recoiled from the impact, before rearing up, and snarling in defiance. I stood my ground, gathering a stronger blast. Inherently, I was less skilled with fire magic, than lightning for example, but that was alright for the purpose of annoying a bear. From the corner of my eye, I saw the woman tense, her eyes tracking my motions. As they tensed, I acted.

"Fire." I whispered, letting my will suffuse the word. A bolt of flame jumped from my hand, striking the beast square in the nose as it dropped. At the same time, the other two leapt from the trees, swords gleaming in the slowly fading light. The bear was either too stupid to defend itself, or to slow, as the blades bit deep into its flesh. Surprise registered on the bear's face, along with pain. I brushed my fingers across another of my tomes, and called up my magic, a far more natural lightening this time, and extended my hand once more.

"Sleep now." Again the words resonated with power. A spark of energy jumped from my hand, ending the beast's life with some mercy.

"What was that?" The woman's voice was curious, her confusion over my casting seeming to override her previous mistrust. "I was unaware magic could be cast without Arcana?" The question was pointed, although that tone lacked some of the previous bite.

"Before I get lost in talk of magic, how are we going to transport a bear back to camp with us?" Chrom asked. I frowned. A good question.

"Don't bother. Just field dress it here, and leave the rest for nature." The woman suggested. He nodded, and started to work on that.

Meanwhile I turned to answer the woman's question. "Giving magic physical form is tied to two things of course, tomes and the Arcanic words used to invoke them. The first requirement is impossible to shake, but the use of Arcana can be avoided with a great deal of practice and mental discipline." I replied, giving the shortened answer.

"Even accounting for that." She waved my statement aside. "The amount of focus needed is thought to be inhuman! Never mind the willpower such invoking might require." Perhaps I had misjudged her a bit, I realized. Although downright hostile towards me, the woman was obviously well educated.

"Yes." I agreed. "It's not a pleasant thing to learn." I considered offering to teach her. After all, with Grima on the rise, such a skill would be valuable to have in the coming months of her life. However, I hadn't the time, and I wanted as much distance between me and Plegia as possible.

"That isn't an answer." To my surprise it was Chrom who pointed this out, having apparently finished dealing with the bear. Robin and I turned to face him, and he gestured back the way we came. "Robin, let Frederick grill her when we get back to camp, and then you can find out your magic questions." He advised. The now named Robin chuckled, and nodded, while I tried to put a face with Fredericks name.

As it happened, Frederick was a man clad in heavy armor with a stern glare, and what bordered on paranoia. His protective streak ran deep, and as I cooked, the man watched me like a hawk. Robin, it seemed found a great deal of amusement in this fact..

Wracking my memories, at least the ones I felt comfortable browsing, I came up with little recollection of Frederick, aside from his unwavering dedication to Chrom. The name also recalled a roar of titanic rage as a blade of purest lightening plunged into Chrom's chest.

I swallowed bile. Seeing faces of those long dead was disorienting, and terrifying all at once. My life after Grima's possession had mostly been in seclusion, preventing me from having to interact with those I had affected, as well as those most heavily influenced by Grima were dead.

Shaking off such thoughts, I returned my focus to how to approach the situation. Chrom, as memory served would be easiest to convince. Lissa would more than likely follow her brother's lead. Frederick however, presented an uphill battle. Even were I to tell the truth, the man would distrust me. Robin, meanwhile presented a wildcard. Even were I to tell the truth, the man would distrust me. Robin, meanwhile presented a wildcard.

Before I had considered coming back into the past, I had planned what story I would provide those I encountered. Based upon a great deal of truth, or at least the truth as I knew it. The odds of Grima influencing my memories was high, such a feat well within the power of a god.

By the time I had finished cooking, and distributed food, the tension around Frederick was thick enough to cut with a knife. Ignoring the glare I set to eating, making a dry note that Fredrick paid no attention to the food.

"So, I believe you own us some explanations." Robin spoke up after a few moments. There was just a hint of curiosity in her tone, and none of the coldness from before. Although, I noted, her posture was still tense.

Giving a slight nod, I set down my good before speaking. "My name is Gri." All three of the Shepherds sat around the fire alternating between eating, and paying rapt attention to my story. Except Frederick. He just paid attention

"Gri? That sounds rather foreign." Chrom mused. Frederick and Lissa, who I remembered was Chrom's sister, nodded.

"In Ylisse, yes." I agreed. "I was born in central Plegia, to members of the Grimeal, hence the rather obscure name." I sighed. That was sure to produce a reaction.

Frederick was halfway through reaching for his weapon when Chrom gave him a stern glare. "And what brings a member of Grima's faithful into Southern Ylisse?" His tone was conversational, but the hint of steel was audible. I had no doubt that a wrong answer would result in a battle.

I snorted. "To describe me as one of Grima's faithful would be a sore injustice. I have had no contact with those shameful examples of humanity for years." Looking down at my hands, memories of blood rose up, unbidden. "Were I able, I would wipe my association with them away forever." Disgust flooded my tone, accompanying my self-loathing.

Robin leaned forwards, her grey eyes flickering in the orange flashes of the fire. "That is quite the condemnation." I suppressed the urge to smile. A nicely leading statement.

"A well-deserved one, I assure you." I replied, before going on. "What you have to understand is that the dearest ambition of the Grimeal is to return Grima to the mortal coil. To this end, years are devoted to specially planning, and pairing men and women to create the perceived best offspring." Closing my eyes, I could still recall Validar's gloating. The proud upturned sneer, the tone of voice. "I am the end result of one such attempt, almost seventy years in the making."

"What?" Chrom's clothing rustled in time with his shaking head. "Are you saying that who your parents are, and your parent's parents were, was preplanned?" The idea seemed quite repugnant to him.

I nodded, opening my eyes to fix a hard gaze upon the Prince. "Precisely. From the moment a Grimeal is born, they are trained in magic, in wielding a weapon, and more. Those who display traits and skills that are considered important to Grima are pushed together, and their children the same." I shrugged. "That is getting far afield of me, however. I was the product of one such union, at the time considered a wildly successful one." Far too successful I knew. "From the moment I could walk, I was learning. Magic. Swordplay. Various heavily edited tidbits of history. I was pushed beyond what any reasonable person could have imagined for the first ten or so years of my life."

"Why only ten years." Chrom was frowning, although his hand had moved away from the Falchion, as he subconsciously made the choice I was, for the time being, not a threat.

My laugh was not a pleasant sound. "My up bring was unpleasant. The Grimeal did not take my failing to meet an expectation kindly. The consequences of failure were mostly unpleasant."

"Unpleasant?" Frederick asked, his gaze intent. I met his eyes, forcing my emotions down. This part was all true, I had learned much later in my life. Learning the explanation for my copious scars was quite unwelcome.

"Grima will not broke having a weak avatar. So, I was beaten, sometimes within an inch of my life, day after day. When training, I was driven to the point of exhaustion day after endless day." Lissa looked green, Chrom angered, Robin's eyes were wide, and Frederick's expression one of cold rage. "Only where the other Grimeal couldn't see, of course. To them, I was just the by-product of yet another attempt at resurrecting Grima." My lips curled in disgusted. "The culture is deplorable."

"That's horrible!" Lissa spoke up. I nodded.

"Oh, without a doubt. And commonplace. Every parent amongst the true Grimeal had the same desire as mine. They all used the same methods to 'prepare' their children." I closed my eyes. "I ran away when I was only ten. Ever since, I've been a wanderer." None of that way untrue, which allowed me to fly under Frederick's sense of worry. My story had already earned me some sympathy from Lissa, I noted, and Chrom had a calculating expression. Robin, struck a middle ground between sympathy, and an emotion I didn't place.

"I find it hard to believe that such atrocities go on under a government's nose, and nothing is done." She pointed out. I nodded, that explained the expression. Frederick as well, seemed to agree based on his expression.

"There is little in Plegia that passes for government." I replied. "Gangrel is the King, but he doesn't rule so much as observe, and allow the kingdom to waste around him. That, and orders incursions of Ylisse, the revenge happy bastard. Within their land, the Grimeal are considering lord and master." I spat into the fire. "I haven't set foot in my home in almost nine years, and I can't say I'm saddened." There was surprise and sadness in the eyes of the three people facing me.

"Oh." Frederick was silent, and seemed to voice the thoughts of the other three.

"Do not stew on it Sir Frederick." I advised him, my voice gentle, a fact that surprised me. "That part of my life is well behind me, and there is nothing that can be done now." He nodded slowly. "Any other questions?" Lissa and Frederick shook their heads, but Robin and Chrom nodded.

"You and Robin seem quite identical." Chrom began, giving the woman a sideways look. "Do you remember her from anywhere?" I frowned. Now there was a question. At least I was able to answer it honestly.

"No, I can't say that I do." I replied. "Then again, I was kept was from most other Grimeal whenever possible so it is entirely possible we lived a hundred feet from each other and never knew." I paused. "However, it you are not covered in scars, I doubt you were born to the Grimeal." I spoke to Robin, before addressing the entire group."Well, I'll not trouble you three any longer, because I owe Robin and explanation on magic." The woman smirked a little, getting up and moving to the edge of the circle of light thrown by the fire. I stood, and followed her, and we both sat in a fluid motion.

"I'm going to guess it has something to do with simply learning the magic differently?" Robin asked me, straight out. I shook my head.

"Yes, and no. Yes, it must be learned differently, but anyone can learn." I frowned. "To some degree, it is like learning to run before you can walk." Robin frowned gesturing for me to continue. I settled down, preparing myself for an arduous lecture.

-FE:FDUL-

It was approaching midnight when I jerked awake. Robin was sitting up and rubbing sleep from her own eyes, a frown on her face. She looked my way, and shrugged.

My magic was surging beneath my skin, almost itching to escape. Bloodlust thrummed within those tendrils of otherworldly power, adding to my growing apprehension.

"No…" I whispered. It was too early for this. She wasn't supposed to be here. Not yet. I swore.

"What is going on?" Robin asked, tension bleeding into her voice . I slid to my feet, grabbing my sword. In the distance, the surge of Fell magic was palpable. Robin was starting to turn green as she mimicked me.

"Do you feel that?" I asked her. The woman cringed, looking over at me. Her eyes were strained, but piercing none the less.

"The desire to throw up, and tear my skin off?" She asked. I nodded, cursing. How the devil did Robin feel the magic? That shouldn't have been possible, although I didn't have time to worry about it.

"Yes, that. Grab a sword, and come on." I told her, my fingers brushing my Elethunder tome and sprinting in the direction of the coalescence of magic. Lucina's arrival was nothing but bad news. No doubt, she would know who I was at once.

"What is it?" Robin asked, drawing level with me and we tore through the woods. I jerked, feeling a sudden surged of different magic, equally repulsive, and powerful, for a brief second, then, a second, maintained blast of that same magic.

"Urgh!" Robin let out a grunt of pain, causing me to wince in sympathy. Initial exposure to Fell Magic was, at best, an excrutiating experience. The oppressive feeling of Fell magic grew and grew, until we burst into a destroyed clearing.

"No." I shook my head. In the distance, a brilliant white flash told me that despite my denials, she was here. The surge of Divine Magic rose in time with the arrival of a Falchion.

"Come on!" Robin gestured, sprinting in the direction of the flash.

"Robin! Gri!" Chrom's shout drew our attention tearing through the foliage. Robin gave him an arch look, I noticed from the corner of my eye.

"Are such horrific creatures commonplace in these lands?" I caught the slight note of worry in her voice, although I got the distinct feeling it was not as the prospect of Grima's necromantic army roaming the world, and instead, the fact that she seemed to understand that these monsters brought with them the miserable sensation of feel magic, which made the skin of anyone knowledgeable in it crawl.

Frederick appeared from behind Chrom and Lissa looking worried. "Thank the gods." He gave Robin and me a quick look, before curling his fingers around his lance, and settling more comfortably into his saddle.

"There isn't time for talk." I glanced at the monsters already starting to head in our direction. Abominations they may have been, but I had plenty of experience with how dangerous these things could be.

"Our guest in quite right," The armored man agreed, "We can worry about other issues as soon as we put these…things…to the sword. Keep your eyes open, we know nothing about this enemy."

"Don't expect anything short of a lethal blow to stop them." I said softly, calling my magic to bear. "Remove heads whenever possible, or drive a blade right through what once passed through their heart." Robin frowned, and the other turned to her, obviously waiting for orders. That struck me as an interesting dynamic.

"Frederick, you and Lissa, head around the north side of this group, try and get to the old fort there." Robin pointed. "Chrom, Gri and I will try and get towards the south, and see if we can't split them up a bit." Frederick nodded, pulling Lissa up onto the back of his saddle, before urging his horse off into the murk.

I followed Robin and Chrom in silence, keeping magic half charged, and ready to unleash at any moment. My right hand remained empty, as I debated whether to draw my Falchion, or just create my good old fashioned sword out of shadows. My choice was made for me as a number of the monsters burst from the smoke.

With a cry, Robin shattered one with lightning, before a second engaged her in a sword fight, while a pair charged at Chrom, whose Falchion blazed white with power.

Four of the monsters charged my direction. I flicked my wrist, spitting a short word and unleashing Elthunder, the tome buried in my cloak pulsing. The spell killed one, and I called on the shadows.

A cold slithering feeling engulfed my right hand as the sword swirled into place. Ducking the first blow, I sliced the legs off the first creature, and rose to stab the second in the chest. Yanking my sword free, I spun, cutting the arm and head off the third, which had been raising a blade to swipe at me. The one I had kneecapped earlier flailed on the ground, and I ended its life with a flick of my wrist. Lightening flashed.

Robin had easily dealt with her opponents, and I finished my own in time to see Chrom lop the head off his last. Even unawakened, the Falchion shone a brilliant white in the presence of Grima's power.

"Come on!" Robin gestured for us to follow, and moving at a sprint, we ducked into the ruins of a fort, leftover from gods only knew when. "Lucky for us, they seem pretty stupid." Robin muttered, frowning at the battlefield. "Although stupid doesn't change the numbers advantage." I noticed the occasional twinge as she spoke, which corresponded to the bursts of fell magic from when one of these monsters died. None of this boded well.

"Something bothering you Robin?" Chrom asked her. Apparently the Ylissean prince hadn't missed those twinges either, which surprised me. What little I knew of Chrom had always suggested he was a bit dense. The woman shook her head.

"No. Just not used to constant fighting." She lied. The tells were subtle, but none the less present. "We probably can get at that one there," She pointed in the distance towards a particularly bulky figure, "and kill it without too much trouble. I figure it's the leader, and killing that one might frighten off the others." A good plan, all told. I couldn't say much without revealing things I wasn't comfortable with.

"A good plan." Chrom nodded, giving me a sideways glance. "Have you encountered monsters of this nature before?"

"Yes and no." I replied shortly. "I've seen things with similar physical appearance, but always from a distance so it's hard for me to judge if they are the same or not, and I most certainly avoided all concept of fighting them. The other two nodded. Robin tightened the grip on her sword. Magic sparked in her left hand

"Well, let's go." She looked much less decisive than she sounded. "Gri, it's probably better if you lead." There was nothing tactical about that choice, I knew. Robin had something she wanted to say to Chrom, but I wasn't going to stop her.

"Alight. Stay close. If you two get dragged into a fight, there's enough background noise, I can't guarantee that I'll hear." I warned. A calculated lie, and one I knew Robin's analytical mind would believe, while allowing me the best chance of hear whatever the two said to each other.

Stepping from the fort, I called my magic forth, mentally prepping for more Elthunder spells. While far from the most powerful magic in my arsenal, I suspected it was least likely to draw attention to me.

A few monsters interrupted our trip, but Robin and I were able to end them without any difficulty using magic, until we had only perhaps ten meters to the leader. Along the way, another Shepherd, Sully, and the Valmese Archer Virion joined out little group. From the corner of my eye, I saw Frederick and Lissa moving south as well. I flexed my fingers around the hilt of my shadowy blade. No one had commented upon it yet, but I suspected that would not last.

"Just hit the bastard with overwhelming force?" Chrom offered, giving everyone a look. Robin shrugged. I smirked, shifting my mental preparedness. Overwhelming force was always a fun time. My shadowy sword pulsed in my hand, the dark magic demanding blood.

"I'm down." Sully twirled her lance. Robin nodded, and I tuned out Virion's womanizing remark.

"Go!" Robin shouted, and we as a group charged. The monster turned, roaring a response to our challenge. Robin and I answered with Magic, capital M intended. Spells tore the monsters arms clean off, before Sully drive her lance into its chest and Chrom lopped the head right off. Spinning my hand, I dispelled my shadowy sword, as the feeling of Fell magic vanished. Frederick drew level with us.

"That appears to be the last of them." He announced before gesturing to someone standing at his side. I gulped. She looked just as she had all those years ago, the last time they dueled. The Falchion was not visible, contained with the sheath at her hip. Her hair was shorter, but I knew exactly who she was. "This young man dealt with the rest." Frederick finished.

Young man? Oh poor Frederick. Still, I could understand how the mistake was made, and indeed, I would have made the same if it weren't for foreknowledge. My eyes were changed by perspective though, so I knew the Lady of Naga by sight. Masks and a change of hairstyle wouldn't change that.

I turned away, pretending to be searching the area, which meant I missed most of the conversation, although I heard her say something about a calamity. Of course the Lady of Naga would be so dramatic.

I closed my eyes, preparing for a bit of a magic trick I hadn't done in quite a while. Years and years ago, I remember facing a particularly scummy person, who use magic to teleport himself around without the aid of a staff. It took me the better part of thirty years to work out the trick, and I hadn't used it in quite some time, but I was fluent enough to hold my own.

"Gri? What are you doing?" Robin's voice was confused. I met her gaze steadily, calling the last bits of magic into place.

"Going after him." The effort to refer to the Lady of Naga as male was surprising. "I for one am no interested in taking such vague statements without further proof." Before they could say much else, I released by the magic, sending myself hurling across time and space on the wings of literal shadows.

* * *

 **Author's note time! So, this chapter was a major pain, which is why it took so blasted long to come out. Any reviews and feedback would be great, since this chapter and the next one, which I hope to have done by the end of the week because it's much shorter, are the last two building blocks of the story before things get under way.**


	4. Chapter Three: The Warrior Goddess

**Chapter 3: The Warrior Goddess**

I was a coward, in some ways. Running bodily from my own father, and my aunt. Still, I couldn't face him. Not yet. Not now. Pausing to catch my breath, I took stock of the situation.

First and most obvious was the fact that we had been separated going back, and further, that Grima had sent those monsters of his after us. I frowned .Those details, especially my separation from the others were overshadowed by the woman who had been with father. She had avoided eye contact with me completely, and indeed, upon seeing me, had tensed, as though my presence caused her pain, something that made absolutely no sense.

Although the woman did seem familiar, and had an exact duplicate, or near exact duplicate fighting beside her, I could not recall meeting either of them, leading me to believe I had simply seen someone who resembled them in the future.

I felt the surge of magic, and spun, drawing the Falchion with speed that long hours of war had drilled into my system, before lashing out.

The melodious chime of metal on metal rang across the woods, as the woman who had been with Father appeared from a swirl of shadow. In her hand, radiating dull shine in the moonlight, was a Falchion.

"Lady of Grima." Now that our eyes met, I knew who this woman was without even stopping to guess. Her eyes were different, more human that last time I had seen her, but otherwise she was the exact same as ever. She lacked the crushing aura that Grima had, although her presence was easy to feel.

"Lady of Naga." She twisted her wrist, sliding my blade along her own. I jumped back, pulling the Falchion into a close guard. She, however, left her blade hanging lose at her hip. "It's been quite some time since I've seen you." Her voice had the same underlying hint of steel, although it had a more melodious flow now than before. Grima's was always deeper, gravely, and distorted by the sheer power the being possessed.

"Not long enough." I spat, glaring. The woman considered me for a long time, before sighing.

"You do understand that Grima and I are not one and the same." Her voice was level. I shrugged. Morgan had made that argument from time to time.

"Does it matter?" I spat back. "There are still crimes that fall square upon your head. I know exactly when Grima left you behind, Lady of Grima." I noted the flinch when I mentioned Grima leaving her behind. "Does that hurt, knowing your god abandoned you?" I struck right at the perceived weakness.

Only instinct saved my life. Rolling to my right, I avoided losing my head by mere inches. Her eyes blazed, and magic played about her free hand, lightening dancing eerily, the yellow light casting dancing shadows about.

"Grima," She spat the name in a manner not dissimilar to a curse, "Is not, and will never, be my god." She gestured with the Falchion, which in and of itself raised questions. "He is a parasite which found me a convenient host, nothing more nothing less." Her lips curled in self-loathing, and expression I had seen enough of to know by sight. "Do not mistake the use of my body for my complicity in his actions, Lady of Naga." She lowered her blade. I scrambled to my feet, interposing my sword between us again.

"And what of those who died at your hands after he left you?" I shot back. She sighed.

"Few of them were actually killed, and those that did die deserved their death." Her lips quirked. "And keep in mind, those people were followers of Grima he wanted purged for their heresy." She turned away from me. "I teleported most of them away from the battle, except for those who were rapists, or the like. Those, I ended." Her voice was chilling. No emotions at all, no inflection. Just facts. Gods, she was serious. Even for Grimeal, meeting your death at the hands of the woman who had been the vessel of Grima was not a kind fate.

"That doesn't change things." I retorted. "What are you doing here, Lady of Grima?" I tensed, ready to take advantage of the chance to kill her while she was weak.

"The same reason you are, Lady of Naga." She replied. "To make sure that monster does not rise to power again." Her cloak made it hard to see any sort of motion, but I got the impression she made a violent gesture. "There is someone in this timeline who is destined to become me." Her voice softened, losing a bit of the steely edge. "There are hells I would not wish on my worst enemy, and that is one of them." I shifted, despite myself, relaxing just a fraction. This was a trick. It had to be a trick. There was no other logical explanation. Even Morgan had never suggested the Lady of Grima was so vehemently opposed to Grima. Yes, the idea of an unwilling vessel was floated, but not in the extreme this conversation was implying.

"Why are you telling me all of this?" I demanded, not expecting anything that might resemble an actual answer. The Lady of Grima sighed, shaking her head.

"Because, Lady of Naga, you and I have live with very predefined visions of who the other person is, you somewhat more so than me." She exhaled, head tilting back. "You have never seen me as anything other than a monster, a killer, someone you must kill. I've never been human to you."

I didn't speak. That much, at least was true. It had taken me a long time to see the woman before me as anything less than a monster. Morgan had spent many long months arguing her magical theories and facts to me, before managing to make me realize that Grima was only the host, and a person existed underneath that veneer. That said, I never thought that person was unwilling. Despite Morgan's insistence, that was not a theory I subscribed to.

"If you feel so compelled to kill me, Lady of Naga, I will not stop you." Her voice was dry. "My wards are not active, and the Falchion makes short work of any armor." Her back was turned, and my mind started working. "Although I would suggest if you plan on killing me, to finish was you started at the Mila Tree." I jerked. Unbidden the image of a roaring inferno, composed entirely of black fire rose up.

"Finish what I started?" I hissed between clinched teeth. The woman nodded, her deep purple hair splaying about her shoulders.

"Yes. That was the only time I got close to you killing me, you know. Distracted Grima long enough for an opening to form." I backed away, the memories rising in a wave. Black fire danced behind my eyes again, along with the towering form of a dragon, black as the midnight sky. Brilliant white energy danced about the beast's hide with no appreciably effect.

"You…tried to have me kill you." I wasn't sure how to interpret those words. The Lady of Grima nodded again, turning to face me. Stormy gray eyes bored into my own, her lips set in a thin line.

"Yes. I lived through hell, Lady of Naga, just as you did, although my hell was very different." Her head bowed, fully obscured behind her tresses. "My hell never ended, because I was the unwilling host of the devil himself." I couldn't tell for sure, but it looked like the woman's shoulders were shaking with sobs. Her voice never lost flow or pace, however, which made me unsure. "I lost count of bodies when the number passed five million." There was a slight crack in her voice that time.

"Five million?" I croaked, trying to wrap my head around such a number. Tales spoke of Walhart the Conqueror, and his army of a million, but that number paled compared to what she was suggesting.

"Grima killed over five million. Most of them died mercifully swift deaths at the hands of the Grimeal, but some…" There was no need for her to continue that sentence. I lowered the Falchion, although I remained tensed.

"I'm not going to kill you today, Lady of Grima." My voice was soft, a flicker in the wind, although I knew she was easily able to hear me. "Not yet at least." For a long time, she did not respond.

"There is little time until events are set in motion, you know." Her words came halting, a break from the flowing melody her voice carried. A subtle difference from Grima's earth shaking rumble, but perhaps it did give credence to Morgan's theories. "Emmeryn's assassination is soon." I nodded, although she could not see, as her hair still obscured her face.

"Why do you care?" I asked her. She lifted her head, pushed her hair back into place, and for the first time, without the threat of death hanging above my hand, I found myself staring at the woman who for years had been the moral vessel of my greatest enemy, and now greatest fear.

Her eyes were sharp and clear, a storm grey that bored into the soul, finding the chink in any armor one put up. I could only guess the time that had passed from her perspective since we last crossed blades, but I had the feeling that it was considerable. A slight breeze pushed at her cloak, which for the first time I saw without the swirling runic symbols that blazed orange in the heat of battle. There was nothing special about the garment, I realized, just a cloak with designs stitched on it. The dark purple of her hair framed the pale white of her face in a way that gave her skin an eerie glow, although that might have been the moonlight. The cloak, for its relative plainness did prevent any detail of her build or physique from being obtained.

"I care, Lady of Naga, because, just as you did, I watched the lives of millions destroyed by a literal monster, a monster that I was powerless to stop." A fire burned behind her eyes, except there was no heat to it, only cold. An all-encompassing cold, which radiated from the woman. "I was given a front row seat to the greatest horror show in existence as an unwilling, struggling accomplice." There was a pause, and her next words were slower, more deliberate. "What you saw, Lady of Naga, was but the surface of the horrors of Grima's reign. Imagine having the mastermind behind those and much worse living inside your head at any given moment. Knowing his most intimate thoughts and feelings, and being able to see the graphic image of the torture he had planned for someone slowly play out before your very eyes, yet there is nothing you can do which will influence the outcome."

My stomach turned. What I had seen was only the surface? Part of me, the portion trained to react to anyone claiming to be against Grima with suspicion, rankled against the idea. But the rest of me realized that if anyone was in a position to make such a claim, it was the woman before me, and what's more, the look in her eyes wasn't one of deceit. There was rage in those eyes as she thought of what had happened to those people, and it was the sort of rage that could compel one to action.

I had seen such an expression on the faces of my companions at various points, although the Lady of Grima's expression reminded me most of Morgan, oddly enough. Cold, tempered rage, backed up by powerful magic, and more than respectable skill with a sword.

"Say I believe you." I spoke with care, my voice level. The Falchion was an abrupt burden in my hand, a reminder of just what messing up would mean. "That still doesn't explain why you are here. Why you sought me out, after avoiding me just minutes before."

Her lips curled into what passed for a pleased smirk, or that was at least my best guess. "Because, we have the same end goal, but neither of us possess near enough knowledge to carry that goal out on our own." The words were level, unemotional. "And, because I rather your initial reaction to me to be violence, and that seemed and unwise course of action when Chrom was around."

She couldn't have made her next point more obvious with a signpost. "What makes you think I would be willing to work with you?" My voice was cold, and I tried hard to keep my expression stony. Although I found it hard to believe any of what I had been told, the evidence at least seemed to hold up. As such, I would listen to her proposal, at least.

"Because, I offer you a trade. I have no personal connection to the Shepherds, but I know that they are the crux of why we are here. I also know you want to find your other companions, who you appear to have been separated from. At the same time, you wish to make sure your father is safe." I had to nod, because the woman hit the proverbial nail upon the head. She would know I was lying if I didn't. After all, Grima's favorite taunts had pertained to my Father. "I offer a trade. I will keep your father and the Shepherd's safe, so you can search."

"That presumes a great deal." I pointed out. I wasn't Morgan, and I couldn't read people half as well, but I had picked up on a few things over time. None of that knowledge however was helping at all at this moment. The Lady of Grima bowed her head, just a bit.

"This is true. I also offer you whatever information you wish to have about Grima, and his doings." She paused. "Understand, my memory of the time before he used me is hazy, but I will do my best to answer questions." Her posture, at least that which I could see, was relaxed, although her hands had vanished back into the folds of her cloak.

"I seem to come out ahead in this little agreement of yours." I pointed out, wary. The idea that the former vessel of Grima was willing to aid me bordered on preposterous. I didn't know much about the woman before she was taken, but rumor had it she was a brilliant tactician, and a powerful sorceress. According to Morgan, it was the last trait which likely drew Grima to her, based upon the fact that Grima's preferred method of whipping out resistance involved massive displays of his corrupted magic.

"You do." The open agreement made me frown. Morgan needs to be here, I thought to myself. She would be so much better at handling this. "But that is the nature of our situation. I want your trust, and I suppose that means at least for now, I come out on the losing side of things." She didn't seem too bothered by that fact.

"Even your agreement requires a degree of trust that I'm not sure I have." I pointed out. She nodded again.

"I know you are no mage, but Morgan no doubt gave you her best guess as to how magically powerful I am, correct?" Her voice was easy going, although I felt the trepidation in the statement. I nodded, unsure where this was going. "So you are aware that, even putting aside Grima, I have magic to spare, such that Robin, good as she is for a complete insomniac, wouldn't stand a lick of a chance." I nodded again, starting to see. Robin, I suspected, was the other woman with Father, who wasn't Aunt Lissa, or Sully. "If I wanted to kill your father, I could have done so. In fact, there is no benefit to leaving him alive if my goal is raising Grima." That also made sense. Killing father was considered the turning point for Grima in the future. If that was her ultimate goal, I had no doubt she would have already left him and the other three dead without a hint of remorse.

In Naga's name, I was actually considering this. My knuckles tightened around the Falchion. This was the Lady of Grima I was talking about, she would betray me the moment she had the chance, I reminded myself, but the words sounded hollow. Every word the Naga damned woman said was true, and deep down I knew it.

"True." I frowned. I knew Father wasn't allowed to know who I was, not yet. But at the same time, I worried for him. Still, if the Lady of Grima could be trusted, she would provide the sort of protection only a god could circumvent. "One condition." I caught a brief flash of amusement in her eyes.

"Fair." She nodded. Naga damnit. I felt like I was being played at every turn and nothing was stopping that fact.

Or, part of me suggested, you are just fighting something that you know is a good idea to hard. I ignored that thought.

"You are going to answer some questions now." I glared at her. "Starting with how the hell you got your hands on that." I jabbed my Falchion at the bump where the sheath of her Falchion was. I saw more than heard her sigh. The sound was more resigned than any other emotion, as if she knew that was the forthcoming question, despite a desire for it not to be.

"The truth of that matter is that I have absolutely no bloody clue." Her lips curled in disgust. "I shouldn't have it, before you start venting." I didn't move, waiting. Although the thought that the Lady of Grima had a Falchion seemed fundamentally wrong, I understood that it was at least possible. "Naga, in her _infinite_ wisdom decided I should have it, apparently." The scorn in her voice was she described Naga was obvious. For the first time, I found myself unwilling to leap to Naga's defense. Perhaps the Lady of Grima had a point this time. "For some reason, just before sending me back, she gifted me with the blade that marks her chosen."

"I thought only one existed." I admitted. "Well, it would have been two in this time, but that isn't normal."

The Lady of Grima shook her head. "That is what most people thought, and really, there have been so few people who could have disproved that theory, that the idea stuck in the mind of society. The fact of the matter is that the Falchion can exist in theory an infinite number of times at any given point. Naga only gives it to those that she considers 'worthy' of the blade, a criteria that history has shown to be a flexible and irrational metric. The only exception to this is the blade passed down through House Ylisse, which your father, and now you, wield."

"I see." Vowing to double check her words as although the logic seemed sound, the source was not, I forged ahead. This was the hardest question to asked, in truth. "What happened to my mother?" I held my breath, hoping against hope the answer would be short. The Lady of Grima's eyes darkened.

"She wasn't killed in battle, if that is what you are asking." She turned away from me, not before I saw the glint of a tear in the corner of her eye. "That would have been far more merciful." I gulped, a feeling of dread rising up. "Grima captured her, and tortured her for information about you, before killing her in the most gruesome way he could think of." I got the feeling my feelings were being spared, but I couldn't bring myself to ask more questions. Memories of the few torture rooms we had found sprang to mind. Tears fought to escape my own eyes. "I am sorry." Her voice sounded broken. There was no melody in those words, none of the musical beauty to her voice that was the strongest separation of the Lady of Grima and the Fell Dragon himself.

"And Father?" She turned, slowly, meeting my eyes. I gulped, feeling both afraid, and very small. There was an ancient nature to those eyes, a haunted cold feeling the almost pervaded the very air about her.

"I killed him." That time, there was no mistaking the brokenness of her words. "Grima forced my hand, but I killed him." She shook her head, hair flying about in an untidy mass. "Grima loved to torment me with that fact."

I turned away from her, a roiling mix of emotions filling me. On one hand, she admitted in the past she had killed my father. How was I to trust her with his safety? Yet, at the same time, her actions more than her words told me that Grima had been the one to really do the killing, and at she would not do so again. Or so I wanted to believe.

I wished Morgan was here to figure this mess out.

"Draw your Falchion, Lady of Grima." I turned, raising my sword to a high guard. She frowned, drawing her own blade, and adopting a relaxed stance. Her guard was lower than mine, but it gave her a great range of motion. The stance was a complete change from Grima's usual stance, which mimicked my own higher guard. "Dance with me." I commanded, stepping forwards with a deliberate strike towards her chest. Her eyes narrowed as she understood my meaning.

Moving at the same metered pace, her blade rose, turning mine aside, redirecting my momentum. I spun fully around, still moving at a controlled speed, another strike, this one towards her neck. She snaked around the blow, her own strike moving towards my chest. I parried, turning her blow in the same fashion she turned mine mere moments before.

She spun, speeding up a bit, but I was already out of range, attacking as she finished her revolution. Her dodge was smooth, and I parried the counter attack.

For two minutes, we wove back and forth, speed increasing with every blow, until to the average eye, we would have appeared nothing but a whirlwind of shining steel. Years of war and training drove our motions as we wove and ducked, feinting and twisting around, swords twirling through complex patterns without pause.

I ducked under a slash, and rolled away from the follow up, before lashing out with a complex string of strikes that I had learned from long hours fighting Grima sword to sword. I saw her eyes narrow, before she lunged into my attack, the white trail of her Falchion leaping to my own.

Spark flew wildly as our blades met clashing over and over again. Round and round we danced, blades coming within the slimmest margin of skin, but never cutting. Without pausing a beat, I launched a counter to her attack, and we spun again, both of us turning to the side in the exact same dodge, blades spinning in our hands, before we came to a halt. Back to back, our blades held in a loose grip behind the back, right hip to left shoulder.

"Not bad." She didn't even sound winded. I was breathing hard, although I could have kept going. As intense as that spar had been, battle was worse, and for the last several years, I had lived in constant battle.

"Not bad?" I tried not to sound offended. I had held her to a standstill. Granted, we fought only with swords, not swords and magic, as I knew she favored, but the comment still rankled.

"Not bad." She repeated. "You have come a long way, Lady of Naga." Her voice was remarkably non-patronizing. "All things equal, I would lose against you." I blinked. Of all the things I expected that was no one of them.

"All things equal?" What did that part mean, I wondered? She snorted, a sound that was far removed from the cold and collected façade she presented the world.

"Without the age difference, the difference in experience, and without my magic." She replied. "The only thing keeping me ahead of you is experience. In five years, I doubt there is a soul alive that stands a chance at matching you with a blade." There was a degree of earnestness to those words, which made me pause.

"Besides you." I pointed out, stepping away, and sheathing my Falchion. She snorted once more, although this time it was more a sound of amusement than anything else, turning to face me, and mimicking the action.

"I don't count." Her reply was flat. "I am an aberration." I shook my head.

"Hardly." I countered, unwilling to accept that idea. Possessed by Grima or not, his Champion was a formidable warrior. Grima himself had been a mediocre swordsman. The few times I had gotten close enough to force instinct of the body he possessed to take over, the disparity in that skill had been obvious. She shook her head.

"Someday, Lady of Naga, we shall have that argument, but today is not the time. I watched her shake her head, thin wisps of shadow snaking out to return her hair to a reasonably orderly state. I frowned. Such an odd application of magic, and flippant.

"We both have places to be." I pointed out, despite everything feeling unwilling to outright accept her proposal. I needed to think.. She nodded, exhaling in a controlled manner.

"That we do. I will find you sometime in the near future to speak further." She turned to leave.

"Wait." I stopped her. "What is your name?" I asked. A ghost of a sad smile danced across her face. The reality that I might be the first person in years to ask her that question slammed into me.

"My name is Gri." She replied, turning so that her hair hid her face. "Goodbye, Lucina." Shadow's spun, and she was gone.

I shuddered. There was something entrancing about the way my name had rolled off her tongue that made me shudder. Neither Grima, nor Gri, as was apparently her name, had ever used my name before.

"Gri…." I frowned, before shaking my head. I didn't have time to be distracted by the woman.


	5. Chapter Four: The Darkness Gathers…

**Chapter Four: The Darkness Gathers….**

 **Tactician of Ylisse: Robin**

I entered the barracks slowly, unsure what to make of my current situation. Apparently, after waking up a field, I had been found by the prince of the realm. The only catch: I didn't know what realm I was in, and said prince hadn't bothered to point out who he was, leaving me to make a fool of myself. What were the odds? Then, we encountered a woman who broke laws of magic that I didn't realized I knew until I saw her break them. This phenomenon was driving me crazy. A seemingly selective lack of memory struck me as a bizarre phenomenon, not that I had any way to prove or disprove that idea.

The journey to the capitol after our encounter with the mysterious Marth had been quiet, leaving me time to ponder the mysterious woman we had encountered. Gri was the name she gave, although I remained unconvinced that she was being truthful about that. Although nothing in her words or mannerisms directly hinted at untruths, the nagging feeling remained. I shook my head. Chrom seemed to trust her, although Frederick did not. However, I got the impression that man trusted no one, a stance I did not fault him for, especially if the neighboring lands were as warlike as he claimed.

Wherever I was, this world was in turmoil. The remnants of a yet to be forgotten war seemed to have left Ylisse and Plegia at each other's throats, despite the efforts of Chrom's old sister, based upon what Chrom had told me about the Exalt, who was only now revealed to be his sister.

"Such a blooming mess." I shook my head, glancing down at my hand. No one seemed to be around, so I figured I finally had time to try and determine the truth of what Gri had told me about casting magic without using Arcana.

At first, that is what I thought she had done, invoked the spell mentally. Then, I noticed that she spoke a word. Spoken word, of course, was far more powerful than thought, which meant the spoken word would direct the magic as opposed to the thoughts, rendering that idea useless.

I closed my eyes, drawing my focus inwards as I collected magic. Gri had said that learning magic this way was much like learning to walk all over again, and advised starting from the beginning, with the most basic of exercises and spells.

My mind's eye easily conjured the image of small sparks jumping between my fingers, the precursor to more serious lightening magic. Even this small release of energy though required a Word to invoke, in this case ' _Arus'_. I pushed the magic outwards, keeping that image strong, and putting the full force of my will behind the act. There was a bright flash, and I shook my hand, biting down a curse.

"Apparently too much." I muttered, wincing at the burns on my hand. Pain was part of learning magic, and didn't faze me in the slightest, although the burn would raise questions. Before I could worry about that detail however, there was a ripple across my skin, and the shadow of my robe seemed to bend around my hand, before snapping back into place. I stared in shock, unsure how to react. The magic seemed identical the magic that had held together those shadowy monsters we fought not long after encountering Gri, yet it didn't bring with it the urge to puke, and the splitting headache.

 _Of course it doesn't Manling_. The voice sounded amused. I jumped, shooting quick looks around the room. What the hell was that?

"Who are you?" I spoke softly, so as to make sure that no one might hear, although I didn't see anyone around. First impressions were important, of course, being seen talking to thin air seemed like a bad first impression.

 _All in good time._ The voice replied, sounding amused, it's gravely tone making my head begin to ache. _Seek the one you call Gri…. Learn her secrets…._ The voice faded away, growing weaker with each word. I grimaced, shaking my head. What the bloody hell was going on? Hearing voices in my head was not an accepted part of learning magic, and given that I already knew magic, the idea I'd start now was obscene. Or evidence that I was insane.

"Who might you be?" The voice was rough, male, and boisterous. I turned, and balked. The man was large, overly muscled, and had a large axe slung over his shoulder. That alone wasn't enough to take me aback, although his near shirtlessness was.

"That's Robin!" Lissa's voice prevented me from saying something rude. "We ran into her on our way back, and Chrom's made her our tactician!" The girl was just as bubbly as ever it seemed. "You should see all the tricks she has up her sleeves!"

"Oh yeah?" The man with the axe gave a snort of disdain. "Can she do this?" He released a belch, both loud and long. I tried to resist the urge to glare. Belching? Really?

"Ugh! Vaike! That was abhorrent!" This new arrival was female, and dressed in obvious trappings of nobility. Unless my eyes deceived me, she was carrying a parasol of all things. Having made her disdain for the axe wielding Vaike known, the woman turned to Lissa, and began fretting over her. I largely tuned that out, instead focusing on the third person to enter the room.

Female, with pink hair, but wearing armor, I got the impression this woman was a warrior of some sort. Although how the gods she fought in high heeled boots was a mystery to me. I suspected she might have been a Pegasus rider, although the only examples of such warriors I had seen in Ylisse were in the Exalts guards.

"Beg pardon, but when might we see the Captain?" Her voice was soft, and caring, a direct contrast to the boisterous oaf beside her, the other woman, named Maribelle, if my hearing was good, who had a voice that grated on my ears.

"Poor Sumia." Maribelle started to say something, which included a veiled insult, I noted, with a frown. I had to admit they weren't making the best of impressions. Still, Chrom had said he trusted them, and apparently so did Fredrick, which was a far greater merit in my view. Chrom seemed like a good man, but I would trust Frederick's instincts more than his.

"So! Robin!" Vaike's voice shattered my thoughts. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.

"Yes?" I tried not to sound too cold. The man gave a challenging grin.

"Think you can do this?" He belched loudly again. I wanted to say something rude, before shaking my head.

"No." Short and curt. From the corner of my eye, I saw Maribelle smirk approvingly. "Unless you intend to scare enemies away with bad breath, I'd suggest picking up a different skill." The urge to lash out finally got the better of me. The other women giggled at my remark, and I shook my head at little. Not the best way to make a good impression on someone. At the same time, my mind was working overdrive, trying to process all the new information, and to remain civil.

"Ah! Captain!" Sumia exclaimed. I flicked a glance in the direction of the entrance, and sure enough there was Chrom. "You've returned." Sumia started to try and walk towards him before teetering. I stepped forward a second too late to prevent her from falling on her face. I winced.

"Sumia! Are you alright?" Chrom moved forwards helping her to her feet. "Those boots of your again?" Sumia blushed a little, before shaking her head. Glad to have something to analyze, my brain started breaking what I had seen down, in the moments up to Sumia's tumble. My only conclusion was that she had not in fact tripped over her boots.

"No. I mean…yes. I mean…."She trialed off with a defeated sigh. Interesting. She knew full well she hadn't tripped over her boots, and was doing a bad job of covering it up. Chrom gave her a quick smile before addressing the rest of the assembled group.

"Alright, listen everyone: In the morning, we will be marching to Regina Ferox." I frowned, wishing the name knocked some other memories loose but had no such luck. Based on Chrom's stance, and wording, I suspected that this would be more of a diplomatic visit than a warlike on.

"Regina Ferox?" I asked for clarification. I saw a couple of strange looks, but no one commented.

"A unified kingdom to the north, inhabited by barbarians, or so it's said." Sumia offered, a small frown on her face.

"Warriors are what they are, and we'll need their strength to quell this new menace. Typically, the Exalt would go make such a request in person but in light of recent events…" He trailed off. No one needed Chrom to finish that sentence, after all, even without memories, that answer was obvious. "Now, this mission is strictly voluntary, so, if any-"

Lissa chopped his sentence off. "I volunteer!" She sounded far too chipper, given the circumstances.

"Me too. You'll be needin' ol' Teach along for such a delicate mission." I swore I heard Maribelle say something about Vaike not knowing the meaning of delicate under her breath.

"I'll go too!" I jumped, brushing my fingers against the tome at my belt priming magic to cast, to see a man encased in full plate armor. I could excuse myself for not seeing him, after all, he was standing directly behind me, but everyone else should have seen him, but the shouts of surprise indicated they had not. "What?" The man sounded defeated. "I've been here the whole time!"

"I um…" Sumia looked unsure of herself.

"Yes?" Chrom turned to face her.

"It's just that…well…I'm not sure I'm ready for a proper mission yet." I frowned, considering. Although wearing high heeled boots was odd, Sumia carried herself like someone fairly used to fighting, and especially one who was accustomed to wearing armor. "I'll probably just get in the way." Chrom shook his head.

"Nonsense." He said firmly. Sumia didn't look convinced though, so he went on. "Well, you could stay behind the main group if battle is met, just to watch and learn? Your choice of course, although some lessons can only be learned on the battlefield.

"W-well, if you think it is wise Captain." She didn't sound sure, and I made a note that, if Chrom wanted me to be the tactical commander for this group, I needed to figure out what her confidence issue was, as well as some of the apparent personality quirks of those around me.

Following right on the heels of that thought was the realization that I had landed myself in utterly over my head when I accepted Chrom's offer. Now, of course, it was far too late to back out. For a moment I felt a flash of respect for the sneaky way I had been roped into this.

"Just stay behind me, and you'll be fine." Chrom promised. Sumia nodded, blushing a bit. A niggling suspicion of her lack of confidence started to form.

-FE:FDUL-

The next morning came far too early, although I was up well before the sun, making sure I had my sword and tomes in order, as well as practicing the idea of casting magic without using arcane words. I was no more successful than I was the previous day, although I didn't hurt myself this time. I sighed. The skill did seem possible to learn, although I remained dubious to how easily. Then again, if Gri had literally be taught to cast magic this way, it might make sense that she believed it was easy to accomplish.

"You're up early." It was more a statement than a question. I didn't need to turn to know it was the woman who currently occupied my thoughts who had spoken. What did interest me was how she had gotten this location, and then gotten into the building.

"Your point?" I retorted, opting to ignore the question of how she was here for the moment. She gave a little chuckle.

"None." There was a pause. "I see you are trying to learn." Again, a statement of the rather obvious. "Without luck?" I shook my head.

"Limited luck." I replied. She chuckled, a sound that sent shivers down my spine. "What are you doing here?" I tried to seize control of the conversation, by refocusing on answering my other question from a moment ago. The little I knew told me that I wasn't the one in control of this situation, and given the enigma this woman was, that fact scared me.

"That is the question isn't it." Gri gave me a smile that conveyed just a hint of ice, tempered by amusement. "Marth was most uncooperative in giving information, so I thought I might tag along with Chrom and his Shepherds a while." There was a guarded note to her words, just enough for me to know that she was holding back something.

"I see." Although alarm bells continued to ring in my head, I opted, yet again, to leave the issue alone. No one was that perfect all the time, she would slip, and I would get my answers.

"Robin!" Chrom's voice prevented whatever Gri might have said. We both turned to face the young man, who came striding into the small antechamber full of purpose and authority. "Gri?" His readily apparent confusion shone through in his expression.

I shrugged helplessly. "Don't ask me. She just appeared about two minutes ago. If that." He nodded, arching an eyebrow in the direction of the other woman.

"I thought you were going after Marth." Chrom probed. The other reason to not ask questions myself was that Chrom would do it for me, and be far less subtle, thus putting Gri off guard. I hid a smirk, and watching Gri's reaction. Her stance was relaxed, from what I could tell. That cloak of her's made it hard to get a good read on her stance or even general reactions aside from easily schooled facial expressions.

Her lips had quirked just a moment in amusement, followed by the same icy smile, that I realized wasn't tempered by amusement. No, there was something far darker in that smile, a predatory gleam. I suppressed another shiver. "I was. He wasn't cooperative." That was such a vague statement, I thought. An evasion, nothing more, nothing less. Her smile might even indicate the Marth no longer lived.

"Pity." Chrom sighed, running a hand through his hair. "What with these new monsters running lose, and brigands terrorizing the people at every turn, we need all the knowledge we can get." Gri gave a sharp nod.

"I thought I might lend my sword." She told him. Chrom gave me a quick look. I got the feeling he was weighing the merits of her offer.

"I don't have any objection, we need all the help we can get." He replied, before motioning to me. "A word Robin." I followed him into a smaller hallway, out of earshot. As I did, I swore I saw mirth flash across Gri's carefully controlled face.

Chrom stopped and turned to me. "What do you think of her?" He asked. "Lissa thinks she's a friend, Frederick….is Frederick. I find myself with feeling uneasy in her presence." I sighed, shaking my head, wondering how best to answer.

"It's hard to say." I replied after some thought. "I get the feeling she isn't lying to us, at least, not directly." Chrom nodded, his brow furling. "She's a genius with magic, although I haven't seen her fight with a sword yet." The battle with those monsters a few days prior had been to dark and chaotic for me to really see Gri's skill with her sword.

"So you believe she is a friend?" He clarified. I clamped down on the urge to sigh. Was she a friend? That was such a loaded question. On one hand, the woman had shown no ill will towards us, but on the opposite something about her made me uneasy. Logic, dictated that cuation was in order, but Chrom seemed to have sold me up a creek by already by accepting her offer.

"Yes." I told Chrom, pouring my willpower into keeping my voice calm, and my expression blank. There was no reason to lie about what I thought, but something held me back. There was nothing to substantiate my feelings about Gri. That's what I told myself, in a futile attempt to mitigate my already rising guilt.

"Good." He sighed. "I'll go round up the others then." I nodded, moving back toward Gri in the antechamber. Her back had turned towards us, and I made an effort to approach without a sound. She made no action to indicate a knowledge of my approach.

"I'm curious Robin." She spoke, shattering the idea of surprising her. "What makes you find me untrustworthy?" With a slow practiced movement, she turned, meeting my eyes. I shivered, unable to help myself. Storm grey, Gri's eyes conveyed a deadness of the soul that burned me. I wanted to recoil, both in revulsion, and in fear, but I clamped down hard on that urge, when the second layer of her gaze hit me. Gri resembled predator. That was the part of her that set me on edge. The predatory nature of her movements, refined, flowing motion, with no effort or energy wasted.

"You remind me of a wolf." I replied, my voice low, the only way I was able to suppress the tremor in it. "Everything about you screams predator. In a given area, there is an implicit understand that you are the most dangerous person, or being, without any action. Even animals react that way to you, thinking back." I shook my head. Gri's lips curled in amusement. How was she finding amusement in this situation?

"My my my…." That frosty yet predatory smile was back in full. "You are much too smart for your own good Robin." I frowned, taking half as step back, readying myself for anything.

"What is that supposed to mean?" I challenged her. Gri's lips shifted into a wry grin, her eyes glittering with some emotion.

"Very few people realize how dangerous I am Robin." Those eyes, stormy grey voids bored into my own, leaving me rooted to the spot. Speckles of black started to swirl around in the murk. "And you are quite right. I am a predator." Her voice was low, almost a purr, which sent shivers up my spine. I gulped. "You are, I believe, the third person that had the good sense to call me what I am." Her amusement was palpable, if one listened well enough in her words. "You are the only one who hasn't run in fear." The amusement bled away. "What are you going to do with this knowledge Robin?"

I shrugged, helpless. "What can I do with it?" I pointed out. Gri's eyebrow arched, a gesture of inquiry, but also veiled another emotion. "Even if I point that fact out to say, Chrom, he isn't going to be able to see what I do. Not to mention it doesn't prove anything besides that you are hyper dangerous, which we already knew." I shook my head. I had only known these people for a short time, but that much was obvious. Gri's eyes twinkled.

"True." There was a pause. "Food for thought, tactician." She paused. "If I am the predator, what is my prey?" Leaving that ominous statement behind, Gri moved away, leaving me rooted to the spot.

"Everyone ready?" Chrom's voice shook me from my reverie. "We have a long march ahead of us." I turned to see the Shepherds had assembled. I flicked a glance at Gri, and was acutely aware of how the woman had appeared at my right shoulder, her cloak soundlessly swirling about her ankles.

"W-Wait for me!" The shout preceded the winded arrival of a young man with somewhat unruly hair, and armor often favored by horse riders. I frowned. He doubled over for a moment, panting. "Why am I the last one to hear about this expedition to Ferox?" He demanded. I saw Lissa frown.

"Vaike was supposed to….Vaike! Did you tell Stahl about the mission?" The man looked askance.

"The Vaike never forgets…I just don't remember is all." He mumbled the last part. Beside me, Gri snorted.

"I swear, you would forget your own name if you weren't constantly saying it to yourself." Lissa jibed. "Please tell me you actually _have_ you axe this time?" I winced at the girls biting tone. Gri gave an amused noise.

"Hey!" The shirtless man objected. "That was one time." A pause. "Okay, maybe twice….but training sessions don't count!" The denial seemed more to convince himself, as I could tell by expression none of the others were sold. "Anyway," He reached onto his back and produced a large axe, "I've got it right here. Teach is loaded and ready for action." I tuned him out at that point, and I swore I heard Gri mutter something. I shot her a quick glance, and recoiled slightly at the visceral emotion that flashed through her eyes. Almost hatred, for some reason.

"Your name is Stahl, right?" I interjected into a lull in conversation. The new arrival nodded.

"That's right. You're Robin aren't you? Miriel told me about you." The man replied, and he went on, seeing my apparent confusion. "Miriel's one of our mages." I nodded, filing the information away for future use.

"That everything then?" Chrom asked. When greeted with nod, we set out.

As we started north, I made careful note of the fact that Gri had taken it upon herself to shadow me, although I wasn't sure if the predatory air and flapping cloak were intentional or not.

With a start, I realized that there wasn't wind, meaning that Gri's cloak was flapping from something else. A brief consideration suggested she had a spell, or, the altogether more terrifying option was that she was so powerful that he aura could cause such a reaction in the physical world.

"None of this sits well." Her voice was low, the same flowing tone, but had an undercurrent of unease. I shot her a quick glance. Given all the indicators of her skill and power, for Gri to be uneasy did not bode well.

"Hm." I made a noise, giving the rest of the Shepherds a quick look. They were serious, but relaxed. Gri, meanwhile was obviously wound tighter than a spring, although it was hard to see, since her constantly moving cloak obscured her body language.

"Reach out with your magic." Her voice was tense. I frowned, feeling the memories flash into place. The skill Gri referred to was Mage Sight, was one that any magic user could theoretically achieve, if with varying degrees of success. The sensation of the Sight was regarded differently by everyone. For the strongest of mages, supposedly it was like walking through a world with everything surrounded by an aura that indicated something about the object or being.

Calling my magic to the surface, I focused on my vision, pushing the little effort of will into place. My vision flared dramatically, as the world rendered in brilliant color. The feeling was peculiar when surround by a number of people. Despite not having skill in magic, they still had signatures to my senses in this way. Gri, by contrast, was a blazing pillar of power, white enshrouded by pitch black. I shuddered. The black energy surrounding her invoked the same feeling as the shadows that had healed my hand the previous day. I cast my eyes out farther, looking ahead of us.

"Oh gods." I whispered, as I began to process the various inputs. My eyes snapped back to Gri.

"You feel it too." Her voice was tense.

"The same feeling as those monsters we fought after meeting you." I replied, shutting my magic away again, watching my vision fade into a normal spectrum of colors. I didn't need to see her nod. The feeling was unmistakable.

"Bodes badly." Gri muttered. "Those things being other places." I got the feeling she wasn't talking to me anymore. "Damnit." The curse was vicious, accompanying a flare in magic from the mysterious woman.

"Gods!" Chrom was walking ahead of us, and he had just crested a hill. I followed just shortly behind, moving to stand beside him, and to stare down on what my magic had already told me.

The monsters had overrun the plains before us. I counted more than forty, and given the smattering of ruins and forests about the area, I suspected there were more.

"No…" Gri hissed.

"Have the Risen spread this far?" Chrom demanded, incredulous.

"Risen?" Several of us asked. Chrom shrugged.

"We needed a name, so they were given one." Frederick replied. I frowned, nodding. The name worked. Gri gave a mild snort. I gave her a sideway glance, but her face was emotionless. I sighed, turning back to the battlefield, setting my mind to the task.

This was my specialty, I supposed, as the analytical part of me took over, breaking the battlefield down, and going to work.

* * *

 **The second part of this triplet coming in a few hours time. Feedback is appreciated.  
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	6. Chapter Five: Meeting the Enemy

**Chapter Five: Meeting the Enemy**

 **The Lady of Grima: Gri**

I couldn't help but be inwardly amused by the chosen name of the monsters. Risen. The name was so applicable that it hurt. Beneath my cloak, my hand wrapped around the hilt of the Falchion. The magic in the blade pulsed in a way it had not when I dueled Lucina. Now, the blade knew, the essence of its mortal foe was near, and wanted blood. I closed my eyes, shifting my hand, just to the side, placing my hand over the hilt of a more normal sword, a blade of well forged steel, which suited me far more. I had not deserved the Falchion, and I had no intention of using the blade, beyond that one spar with Lucina.

Robin shook her head, as Vaike said something about losing his axe. I gave a low hiss, which drew a sharp glare from the woman. I flinched inside, wondering what about Robin set me on edge. The woman was smart, observant, and I knew that, when Grima made his move, she would be valuable ally. Thus, I had decided, for now, shadowing her, and keeping her alive, was the best thing I could do. Add on the fact Chrom seemed to keep her close, that meant I could protect Lucina's father for her.

Chrom's daughter was one of the oddest people I had met. Our duel had revealed a couple of things to me. First, she was just as good with the sword as her duels with Grima would have indicated. Second, there was a layer of insecurity beneath her shell. I had exploited that to get a way to earn her trust, and despite the fact I knew it was for the best, that act ate away at me.

"Gri." Robin's voice was terse. I turned to face her, eyes sharp. Her sword was drawn, and I watched the rest of the Shepherds start to fan out across the plains, heading towards the tree lines that flanked the area. Chrom wrapped his fingers around his own Falchion, eyes bright with anger. "Ready?"

I drew my sword, twirling the blade into a comfortable grip. My left hand sparked with magic, as I called my power to the fore. Robin gave me an appraising look, before just slightly shaking her head.

I followed behind the group of three, Chrom, Fredrick and Robin, alert of any Risen that escaped the other shepherds. Yes. I liked that name for them. A few came charging, but Robin was able to handle them well despite this. I sighed. Battlefield insanity was building already, I could see, as the Shepherds neared a river. Robin frowned, seeming to consider as the three groups rejoined.

"Gri." Her voice was tight, and I got the impression she didn't like what she was about to ask. "Do you think you can open a big enough hole to get us across the river?"

My eyes narrowed, zeroing in on the Risen, eight in total, baring the bridge. I gave her a hard stare. "Yes." Without waiting, I could already see the word forming, I started forwards. One hundred yards between the bridge and us. I started to run, feeling the unpleasant sensation of growing fell magic.

"Strike." I hissed. The spell known to the rest of the world as Elthunder snapped off, striking one monster head on, and removing his head. The other seven gave howls of rage, and charged at me. For the first time in years, I felt adrenaline pound through my veins as they closed in. The first, a step ahead of the pack, met me about halfway, and I ducked the clumsy axe block, and chopped its legs off, before spinning my sword in hand, and blade held in reverse, removing its head. A spell took down the second and third, before I engaged the remaining four.

I had no doubt Robin would describe the fight as a bloodbath. I tore the first Risen almost from its feet with a hip to collar strike, beheaded the next one, took the legs off the one after him, and in a display of strength I probably shouldn't have indulged, I shattered the sword of the next Risen with a single blow. The monster stepped back, eyes widening. My left hand came up, spell already building.

"Arc!" I spat. Arcthunder, Elthunder's bigger brother smote the monster from existence. I could already see more Risen massing, and I started towards this group, spells flying. A few flashing over my shoulder, lightening magic from Robin, and fireballs, probably from Miriel, if I remembered her name correctly.

I hit the Risen head on, throwing myself into the fight with abandon. Swords shattered over and over as I put my full strength behind every blow.

The occasional spell flew from my hand, but largely, I stuck to my blade to leave more than thirty Risen in clouds of smoke. For a moment, my vision clouded over, and I was assailed by memories of a time far more fractured, when this whirlwind of death was my everyday existence, when blood ran instead of water down rivers.

"Gri!" Robin's voice shattered my focus, and I whirled, sword halfway through a flip into a reversed grip. The blade clinked against my armor as I failed to stop its motion fast enough. The eyes of the Shepherds were wide as they moved across the bridge, careful to avoid the shattered weapons left in my wake.

I gave the woman a nod, before pulling my cloak tight around me once more, and letting my sword slide back into its sheath.

"What was that?" Chrom asked, his voice a little awed. I shrugged.

"Practice makes perfect." I replied. Robin's eyes narrowed. She didn't buy into that answer for a second. Smart woman. To bloody smart. Chrom's eyes narrowed, but he seemed more convinced. "We can talk later, there are still a few more." I pointed out, and Robin nodded in confirmation.

"I can think more clearly, but there are at least five more that way." She gestured. "Stahl, Sully, take the left ride. Fredrick, Chrom, the right. Everyone else, with me." I fell into step with Robin, keeping a precise distance from her right shoulder.

"What was that actually?" She hissed. "I know full well that one can't practice what you did back there. Not like you implied." I kept my gaze ahead, as sounds of fighting drifted from our left.

"I have no idea what you're talking about." I evaded the question for now. I would bet my left arm that Robin would seek me out after the battle, which was acceptable. Fighting with her now wasn't going to accomplish anything. Besides, it would serve me better to be able to decide how much information to trust the woman with.

"Sure you don't." Robin's tone was acid. I hid a smirk.

The battle had been over some time, and Chrom had decided it was time for us to pitch camp for the night. While everyone else was busy with that, I noticed Robin had disappeared, as had Sumia. Having long since become accustomed to sleeping on dirt, and without a tent, I declined the offer of one. Besides, I didn't expect to sleep tonight.

"Fredrick!" I beckoned the knight over. He gave me a wary look, before approaching. "Have you seen Robin and Sumia?" I asked. The man shook his head.

"No, I have not. I overhead Robin telling mi'lord that she wanted to spar with Sumia at some point, so I suspect that is where they are, although I cannot say for certain." I nodded.

"Thank you Fredrick." I gave the man a quick smile, knowing I had to at least win his trust at some point, or this whole plan fell apart. I turned, moving into the woods, and reaching out with my magic. More exactly, I allowed fell magic to creep out. Robin was sensitive to the unique variety of magic, which meant it would try and pull itself to her, if I didn't control it well. Normally, control was never an issue, however this time I deliberately, allowed the magic to flow randomly, until it rushed towards Robin. Gathering my power, I allowed started in the relevant direction.

The trek was short, but markedly difficult, having to slog through mud and brush in order to find the duo. The sound of clashing blade ensured I knew that I was in fact going in the correct direction, which was some comfort.

A moment later, I found myself at the edge of a clearing, in which two figures danced. Robin, her cloak flapping and swirling about her, ducked and wove around Sumia's lance, sword gleaming in the setting sun. Sumia, for her part ensured that Robin had little time to do anything but defend.

Watching the duo battle was an interesting experience for me. Robin, I noticed, had a very similar battle style to myself, relying on speed and agility to keep herself out of harm's way. I could easily see the points where spells would have been employed against an actual opponent, and there would have been no good way for Sumia to dodge had Robin chose to use them.

Sumia, by contrast, was a complete speed demon. Despite wearing heeled boots, and seeming rather clumsy earlier in the day, she pressed her considerable advantage over Robin without pause, forcing the other woman into a fighting style that I could tell was unfamiliar, namely, relying on brute force to overpower her foe.

Watching Robin bat aside a well-timed jab, I knew the match was over. The step inside brought her left hand up, and she mouthed a word.

"Spark." I muttered. It was the same word I used to invoke the beginner lightning spell. A flash of light jumped from Robin's hand, impacting Sumia's shoulder and knocked her back. Robin took instant advantage of the opening, sword gleaming as it tapped to Sumia's chest.

"Nicely done." I stepped into the clearing, making my presence known. Both women jumped. "Especially you." I nodded to Sumia. "I wasn't aware fighting in boot with that much heel was even possible. Sumia blushed.

"I'm not that good." She mumbled. I chortled, a brief flash of memory striking me. One of the few memories of Sumia I had that didn't involve acts too horrible to remember. She had fought hard, and held Grima off for a considerable time when he made to capture her. My body still bore scars from the encounter.

"To the contrary." I offered my hand, pulling her to her feet. I noted absently that she was almost able to look me in the eyes. "You are quite skilled. Despite having the memory of a goldfish, Robin here is quite skilled in a fight, and the fact that you made her resort to using magic against you is a testament to yours skills." Robin scowled at my remark about memory, but nodded her assent.

"You use the skills you have very well." She agreed. "You're light on your feet, and use that well." Robin nodded in my direction. "Gri is right that you had me on the ropes for quite a while there. As I recall, of three matches, you won two." I blinked. So Robin had held off pulling magic out of her hat? Interesting.

"Um…" Sumia looked embarrassed, glancing away from us.

I considered, thinking back to what I knew of Sumia. It wasn't a whole lot. She was Lucina's mother, which was the only motivating factor for Grima to capture her, as opposed to kill. She, in the future, had been a lethal fighter on foot, and a terror in the air. Somewhere along the way, she'd picked up skill in magic, which was all the more terrifying, especially when coupled with her mount's speed. Grima had derived no small pleasure from her capture and torture. I shuddered mentally. He had even planned on dragging Lucina down there to watcher her mother scream.

That perhaps, was the hardest part of this. Most of the Shepherds invoked memories of Grima, and memories of what Grima had indulged into 'break' me. None of them could know that I was from the future, which was a reveal I planned on leaving to Lucina. This was, in truth, her crusade. I had just appointed myself as the help.

Robin glanced at the sun. "We probably should get back before Chrom sends out a search party." She mused. I grunted. Sumia blinked, shaking her head.

"Um...yes, probably. We don't' want to make him worry." She muttered. I frowned heavily.

"Indeed…." Robin's eyes narrowed a little. "You don't need to worry about how he feels about you, Sumia." I jerked. Sumia's eyes widened comically, as she rounded on Robin.

"What…what are you talking about?" She asked. I noted with interest that her grip on her spear was white knuckled.

Robin, for her part held the gaze without visible reaction. "Although from what I can tell, getting him to admit it would be pulling teeth, Chrom does have feelings for you Sumia." How the bloody hell had Robin figured that out? Sumia turned in fascinating shade of red.

"Um…I…oh my!" She seemed lost for words. Robin shrugged. I considered. It made sense, I admitted to myself. Although I knew Chrom married Sumia in the future, or at least my future, I did not know the circumstances leading up to that marriage.

"Just let things happen Sumia." Robin advised, voice gentle. "Chrom strikes me as having the romantic sense of a brick."

"That's generous." The Pegasus Knight muttered. Robin chuckled.

"Well, generous as that assessment might be, he will eventually figure it out." Robin pointed out.

"Men can be a bit daft." I concurred. "But they do figure things out if given enough time." Sumia gave me a sideways look.

Her voice came out a hoarse whisper. "Are you sure?" I nodded, the most decisive and sharp.

"Quite." I allowed a smirk to play about my lips. "Travel has given me many a chance to see the good and bad of things, and I can say that, no matter how dense and stupid he might appear, he will eventually figure things out." I shrugged. "Giving him a nudge will always help of course."

"Nudge?" This time it was both Robin and Sumia who spoke up. Robin for her part was suspicious. Sumia was curious.

"Nudge." I agreed. "I've see various approached, from outrageous to fairly low key. Just show him you are there, and care about him." I suggested. I wasn't sure why Robin had brought this issue up, but there was no harm in making sure that Sumia and Chrom ended up together.

"Oh." Sumia frowned. "I'll think about it." Robin gave her a smile.

"Don't worry about it too much." She advised. "Just be you." That advice I could always agree with, and I nodded.

"Thank Robin." Sumia gave Robin a smile, and a quick hug. "You too Gri." She seemed a little more hesitant, before giving me a hug as well. I blinked, feeling a bit like an owl as the woman headed back into the forest.

"….what just happened." I stared after Sumia, trying to wrap my head around that five second burst.

"I believe she hugged you." Robin's response was dry. I bit down the urge to say something biting in response.

"I know. My question is why." I shot back.

Robin shrugged. "Because she wanted to thank you for advice? Because you aren't a bitch? Because you seem like a good friend to her?" I snorted at the last bit. I wouldn't be a good friend to anyone, and Robin knew it.

"I'm impressed." I decided diverting attention from Sumia was the best course of action for the time being. "You figured out casting without Arcanic words very quickly." Robin shrugged.

"Not that quickly." She pointed out. "And I still can't use anything but that one basic spell." I choked down a booming laugh.

"Robin, it took me six years to learn what you just accomplished in a few days at most." I pointed out. And it had. According to memories that I were sure belongs to me, it had taken childhood me six years to figure the skill out, and when Grima left me, and I was forced to relearn all conventional magic over again, it had taken another five or six. The fact Robin had figured out the same trick in days left me dumbfounded.

"Oh." I found the lack of pride in an obviously impressive accomplishment interesting, but didn't dwell on it too much. "I don't' really have it mastered." She held up her right hand, revealing a number of burn marks. "The energy release isn't control right." I nodded, that was true. Still, she was a damn sight father than I was.

"That does tend to happen." I agreed. Before I could point out that we probably should follow Sumia back, there was a swirl of gathering magic, and Robin's eyes widened in a fashion that was night on comical.


	7. Chapter Six: Words of Wisdom

**Chapter Six: Words of Wisdom**

 **Tactician of Ylisse: Robin**

The buildup of magic was subtle, and without warning the shadows raced about my hand, healing the burns to the point that I couldn't even tell they were there. Gri's eyes widened, and I gulped. A thrill of fear, unexplained fear, but none the less fear, shot through me.

There was a change in her eyes. The color darkened, and when she met mine, I felt as though my soul was laid bare to this mysterious woman, possessed of unholy power, power capable of smiting me from existence, should she wish it.

"Has that ever happened before?" I shivered. Gri's voice was, in my limited experience, melodious, flowing without pause from word to word. Now, however, the flow was knife edged. Power seemed to linger just behind her words, almost compelling the truth from my lips.

"Just once." I replied. "A day or so after we met you. I put way too much power into the spell and scorched my hand badly, and it healed just like that." I paused, wondering if I should tell her about the voice. I didn't trust Gri, not really, but I knew that, as probably the most traveled person of the shepherds, and the most obviously knowledgeable in esoteric magic, she would be the person to ask. "There is something else that happened the first time." I added. Gri frowned.

"That being." Her expression was controlled, I noted. The darkness was fading a little from her eyes but power remained, lingering just out of sight. I got the feeling the woman was ready to call her full might upon me.

"There was a voice with the magic the first time. Telling me to find you." Her eyes narrowed, and the darkness flared up inside them again. I flinched, and reached in reflex for my own magic to defend myselr

"Fuck." The eloquence was amazing, I thought. Somehow Gri made the profanity encompass a feeling of frustration, fear, and rage all at once. I arched an eyebrow as her focus turned away from me. "That….explains quite a bit."

I shook my head, not seeing how that explained anything. "I don't' follow." Hopefully my tone conveyed my thoughts

Gri sighed. "You remember how I said I was raised by Grimeal right?" Without waiting she plunged onwards. "They worship the Fell Dragon, Grima, who gives the world the intuitively named Fell magic."

"Is that what this healing is?" I asked. Gri frowned, and started walking back towards the camp.

"Yes and no." She replied. "Fell magic is different than almost any other kind of magic in that you can either use it or you can't. The only other kind of magic I know of that shares this characteristic is Divine magic, although that rule seems flexible in that case. Anyway," Gri refocused, "I'm purported to be the most powerful user of Fell magic alive, but I don't have that fancy self-healing you seem too." She shrugged. "I can force my magic to heal me, but I cannot simply recover from wounds in that fashion. I've read and heard of that, mind you, but never seen it myself, so I can't say for sure that it is Fell magic. However, the voice does lend the idea credence."

I shuddered. "That doesn't bode well." Gri's snort was humorless.

"No it does not." The words were chillingly calm. "I can teach you how to control Fell magic and…." She trailed off, before nodding. "Damnit. That seals it." I expressed confusion. "When we are around those Risen things, you have headaches, and feel generally ill." I nodded. Gri swore again. "That seals it."

"I gather those who can use Fell magic are sensitive to its effects." I half stated, half inquired. Gri grunted.

We stepped from the brush into the clearing where the Shepherds had set up camp. The area was full of bustle, and as of that point we had gone unnoticed. "Quite." Gri's voice lowered. "I suppose I should have guessed this before now. Regardless, I can teach you to control that magic if you wish, which should help with the unfortunate side effects." Absently, I nodded, moving away from Gri.

That was a lot to take in, all at once. The idea that I could use the same sort of magic as Grima, who, I had learned from Chrom and Lissa, was the worst sort of god. Depraved, living only for destruction and death. The idea of using his magic was repugnant, especially as I was growing more certain by the second that it was the source of the aura of predatory grace the Gri gave off.

"Thinking deep thoughts?" Fredrick's voice startled me out of my reverie. I shook my head.

"Just trying to wrap my head around some feelings." I replied. The man nodded, sighing.

I did have to feel for Fredrick. The man, who struck me as an advocate of caution, and restraint, was being thrown entirely outside his comfort zone by this whole affair. Not only was a portion of his prince's escort made up of people he had just met, including one woman who had no memories of anything, except for how to fight, and fight well. Then, another woman, this one an exceptionally powerful mage, and good sword hand, had showed up, and joined the party, without giving any actual reasoning.

"That does seem to be the nature of the beast we face." Fredrick mused, shaking his head. "I do wish my Lord who show a bit more caution. This march is bordering on reckless." I grunted. That much was the truth. I understood the hurry Chrom wished to be in, none the less, we needed rest.

"Hence why we are stopping." I agreed. I paused. "Fredrick, what do you think of Gri?" I asked, watching him for reaction carefully. The big man frowned, eyes drifting into the far distance.

"I think she is a powerful warrior, and someone to be wary of." He replied at length. "I worry about her intentions." As did I. "Still, she has proven a capable fighter, so I will extend her at least that much."

"Thank you Fredrick." I told him. He gave me an odd look. "I just wanted to make sure I wasn't seeing things." The knight frowned, but gave me a brief smile.

"I'm glad I can be of help." He nodded, and headed off. I sighed. This whole situation was becoming ridiculous, I thought to myself, coming to the raided realization that I had no clue what I had signed up for.

-FE:FDUL-

It was late at night when I found myself sitting under the stars, as though the small, unidentified blips in the void could hold some answers.

Gri's words weighed upon me. I had the power of Grima. For some reason, that fact raised a primal fear within me, a terror that even my prodigious self-control could not shake. That fact alone was worrying, but the fact that Gri seems to radiate that same degree of fear of Grima, behind all of her own coldness unsettled me more.

With a sigh, I started reviewing what I knew of Gri, which turned out to be very little. She was a powerful sorceress, with what seemed to be unprecedented control of lightening magic, something that was an impressive feat by itself. Her skill was a blade was also quite impressive, and it was possible she fought with two swords, as I had seen the sheath of a second blade at her hip, one she never touched.

Her little display earlier in the day, where she had cut down a horde of Risen that had been giving the Shepherds hell without seeming to pause, even going so far as to occasionally shatter the blades of her opponents in an overblown display, had told me a bit more about her than anything else. Gri was a warrior, in the truest sense of the word. Battle came naturally for her, and on a battlefield, she was just as deadly as anywhere else. Highly trained in magic and blades, there seemed little that was capable of threatening her, and the fact she reminded me of an animal stalking its prey didn't help. Then again, she seemed to be on our side, at least mostly.

Once again, I sighed. This whole situation was insane. As time had passed, I was regaining more and more memory, usually in a disjointed fashion, or when events reminded me of something. My knowledge of magic, as it turned out, was inordinately vast, stretching the fullest breath of Elemental spells, and even a wider variety of what amounted to school yard tricks. Absently, I reminded myself to get my hands on an Arcthunder tome, and hunt down a Thoron. Outside of the much more obscure and high power Valflame, Excalibur, and Mjolnir, Thoron was the only spell I could not recall knowing.

Although Gri talking of Fell magic stirred memories, nothing immediately came to the surface, so I was left to only go on the mysterious woman's words.

"Robin?" To my immense surprise, it was Lissa, who stepped out of the shadows. Chrom's sister seemed quite conflicted, as she dropped onto the hilltop. Her eyes were puffy, and I got the feeling she had been crying, despite the lack of tear tracks.

"Rough night?" The question as just short of being prying, and I wasn't entirely sure if Lissa would even reply. A silence stretched, and I had almost returned my focus inwards when Lissa spoke up.

"Yeah." Her tone was nowhere near as bubbly as it usually was, carrying a lot more notes of tiredness, and almost a self-loathing. Glancing in her direction, I had to wonder what had brought this on.

In truth, I didn't really known anyone in the group very well, which was to be expected, given how long I had been around. My skill at reading people allowed me to make an excellent show of fitting into the mess that was the Shepherds, but the reality was, I was just faking it. That skill however, failed me in that moment, watching Lissa from the corner of my eye. Everything about the young woman was wrong, and in total contradiction of what I had previously seen. There was no feasible way I could make an guess as what she was thinking. "What's on your mind Lissa?"

Chrom's sister gave a bit of a hiccup, before speaking. "Just scared." She muttered. "And feeling kinda pathetic." I frowned. Pathetic?

Why would Lissa feel pathetic, I wondered, before it hit me. "The thing with Marth?" I asked. She gave a bit of a nod.

"I froze." She shook her head. "I've been in fights before but there were always others there, between me and…." And the things trying to kill her, I filled in the blank, wondering what there was I could say. "I…I…I was just so useless. I…I almost died." I could hear her choke on a sob. "I…"

For a moment my breath hitched, and I had to give honest consideration to what Lissa had said. Despite jumping into battle with the Shepherds that first day, I had never really considered that fact that I might die in battle. Perhaps it was arrogant faith in my own skill, or just an honest mental oversight, but I had never even considered it.

"It isn't something you've ever considered before is it?" I spoke aloud when I filled in the blank. Lissa gave a bit of a nod, and I winced.

Well shit. What am I supposed to say here? I had to wonder.

"I guess it would really matter to you though." Lissa mumbled. "You can fight, and do magic, and all that stuff." She sighed. "I'm just good at healing."

That made me wince. "That isn't true." I cut in. "And believe it or not, you have a far more important job than I do." Lissa's head snapped towards me. "Healing is far more important than what I do. I couldn't do my job without you first doing yours." I paused. "More correctly put, it is my job to win the battle. It is your job to make sure people live." I gave Lissa a bit of what I hoped to be a smile. "Keeping people alive is far more important than anything I ever do."

She gave a sigh. "Yeah, I guess." There was a pause. "But you know how to use magic, and have your sword, and all that. I just kinda have to run away." She sounded still quite dejected.

"Everyone has their strengths." I pointed out. "You can heal. I couldn't manage that if I tried. Chrom can use a sword, but I get the feeling if he tried magic, even you couldn't put him back together."

At this, Lissa giggled. "Actually, he did try…once. Emm forbid him ever trying again." That made snort. What had the great oaf done, blow his arm off? "Thanks Robin." She sighed, taking a bit of a deep breath. "I guess I needed that?"

I chuckled a bit. "That being?" I asked her. "A reminder that your brother is a bit of a doofus?" Lissa shook her head.

"No." She paused, giving me a bit of a look. "That people like you, and Chrom and Frederick are there for me." She paused. "That I need to focus on what I can deal with, and not worry about the stuff you guys do out there." She gave me a small smile.

"Of course." I told her. "It's what friends do." Or at least, that is what I had gathered. I stood, offering a hand, and pulling Lissa to her feet. "As I told your brother, my sword and magic are yours." A brief smile crossed my face. "I don't intended on anyone dying, and I wish the best of luck to those who try with Gri around."

That made Lissa giggle again. "She is pretty scary." The blonde agreed. Stepping back, she waved a bit. "Thanks Robin." And without any further ado, Lissa was gone into the camp.

As Lissa vanished into the tents, I went back to staring up at the stars.


	8. Chapter Seven: Knowledge, Good and Ill

**Chapter Seven: Knowledge, For Good and Ill**

 **Lady of Naga: Lucina**

The Feroxi arena was dank, obviously having gone unused for an entire year. Yet, it bustled with the noise that always came before the start of battle. Father and the Shepherds had slipped into the area, their weapons held in tight grips, expressions set with determination. Father stood, flanked by Robin and Frederick, while the Lady of Grima lurked in the shadows behind them. I hoped that Father's tactician, Robin I recalled her name being, didn't pit Gri and I against each other. A duel between the two of us would reveal more than either of us wanted, and would defeat the purpose of my being here.

The assorted mercenaries and soldiers around the Arena were tense, hands hovering over weapons as the Shepherds shifted into two distinct groups, one to each side, I noted that Mother had landed, and the Lady of Grima was climbing on the back of her Pegasus. I couldn't help but wonder the reasoning behind the rather odd action.

The soldiers charged to meet the advancing Ylissean's, who stood their ground valiantly. I noticed Robin in particular, as she danced under the spear of a Knight and ended his life in a flash of brilliant yellow. On the opposite side, Father beheaded a Mage. The other members of the group fought equally hard, cleaving through mercs with a practiced ease.

I frowned. I had expected the rabble to put up a bit more resistance. I knew the world was more at peace, but none the less, there was enough upheaval to make mercenary work profitable. Still, Father's companions found little resistance as the battle waged on. I sighed. As always competent help was impossible to find.

My Falchion almost hummed when I drew it, its magic feeling the presence of the Lady of Grima, and crying out for blood. I suppressed the urge, instead opting to watch the Mercenaries fall, one after the other. Above, Gri and Mother circled, occasionally swooping down to inflict rapid lethal attacks, before rising away from danger.

Even as I watched, an arrow arched skywards, only to be met with a contemptuous bolt of lightning. I winced. There was no denying the effect of the defense, although it seemed rather overkill.

"Chrom, handle that last group!" Robin's voice shattered my thoughts. I turned, facing her squarely.

The first thing that struck me about the woman was her physical resemblance to Gri. Built almost exactly the same, the midnight purple hair, the stormy eyes, even the sword stance she fell into was identical.

"Marth." She spoke the name I had adopted, as if tasting it. I shivered, feeling the adrenaline of battle start to flood my veins. Robin would not be an opponent I could fight on a truly level footing, but underestimating her, especially with the resemblance she bore to the Lady of Grima, seemed unwise.

No other words were spoken, as a spear of energy blasted towards me. I threw myself into a forwards roll, letting the electric shock course over my head, and came to my feet at a run.

Robin's blade was already singing through the air as I drew close. The Falchion flashed in reply, leaving only the musical chime of metal as we spun apart. Robin's eyes narrowed. I lunged.

Her sword flashed in the low light, and I dropped beneath the blow, which would have struck across my shoulders. Spinning, I pressed the attack, slicing towards her shoulder at an angle. Robin blocked, twisting so the momentum of my blow rolled off her blade, and brought her left hand up to cast again.

I was ready for that, borrowing a trick I had learned from fighting Grima possessed Gri.

The kick caught Robin in the side, making her stumble. I righted myself, and struck.

Robin's lips moved in a word I didn't catch, before the flash of brilliant yellow. My first sensation when my hearing returned was weightlessness, before crashing to the ground. I rolled to the side on pure instinct, taking my favorite stance, Falchion held in a high guard across my body, feet spread to allow easy movement. Robin was about five feet away, her own sword held low, and back from her right leg, an unknowing, no doubt, mimicry of the stance Gri took when she appeared to me after my arrival.

Her eyes where calculating, assessing my every breath. From the corner of my eye, I could see the other Shepherds gathering. Father came running to stand beside Robin, his own Falchion shining bright. There was a clatter of hooves, and I saw Mother's Pegasus land. Gri slid nimbly from the animals back, before it leapt skywards again.

Shit. I couldn't fight all three of them at once. Robin and Father I could probably handle at the same time, but adding Gri into the mix would be impossible, especially as I wasn't trying to be the warrior goddess in this situation, just figure out how strong they were. Gri's eyes were narrow, and I got the feeling she had reached the same conclusion.

"Just give up." Father's voice was calm. "There doesn't need to be more fighting today." Although I suspected he could not see behind my mask, my eyes narrowed.

"True." I shrugged. "Yet, arrogance is unbecoming." Gri snorted, no doubt understanding what I was referencing.

Robin frowned further, her eyes taking on the same stormy nature of the Lady of Grima in the midst of war.

"Enough talk." I went on. "Let our swords speak for us." Robin gave a sharp nod, and flew at me again, over the shouts of Father. I noted Gri place a hand on his shoulder, before I focused fully on the woman before me.

Robin's first strike was towards my collarbone, and I blocked, locking one blade against the other. Before I could take advantage of this situation, she jumped back, magic sparking. I tensed, ready for an attack that didn't come. Taking the initiative, I lunged for Robin again, feinting towards her legs, and spinning to strike high. Robin blocked and stepped inside my guard, hand flashing. I lashed out, punching her square in the chest. I swore I felt my knuckles break upon hitting metal. The blow did, however, stop her spell before it began. I saw Robin's eyes narrow further.

Ducking under another stroke, I fell into a defensive stance as the other woman pressed her advantage. Metal clashed with metal in a song that I had long since become familiar with. Robin was skilled with a blade, however she was, by my standards a novice. My broken knuckles burned, reminding me I needed to end this battle swiftly.

Dropping back a step I started to circle Robin, watching carefully for the tensing that would indicate she was about to attack. The telltale action came only a moment later, and I stepped around Robin's blow, deflecting the blade with ease. A feral smirk crossed her face, and I had the sudden realization that I had been played.

Magic roared in my ears, the sensation of electrocution never having been a pleasant one. I crashed to the floor once more, the Falchion clattering from my hand. My broken knuckles throbbed. That, I mused, was the price for underestimating my opponent.

"I yield." I rasped out, my throat suddenly dry. Losing an outright battle to someone much weaker than myself, even though I had held back was almost humiliating.

The next hours passed in a blur. When I recovered from the blast of lightening I had slipped away from the Shepherds to the countryside. My knuckles burned, but I suspected I could find myself a priest who could heal them easily enough. Before I got far enough for that to become an issue, the shadows whirled, and Gri appeared in front of me. Her cloak snapped in the wind of her magic as she faced me, eyes unusually worried.

"Find what you wanted to find?" Her voice was neutral. I shrugged, and kept walking.

"I can't say what I was even looking for." I replied, my voice flat. Despite having no reason to distrust her besides the past, I couldn't bring myself to trust the Lady of Grima. The walk into town was completed in a silence that, while not precisely comfortable wasn't unpleasant either.

I paid for a room at the small inn, and ordered a meal, while Gri politely declined. I sat, watching the woman for a time, while the innkeeper prepared my food. Gri seemed content to wait for me to think or whatever.

"You said you would answer any question I asked." I began. She nodded, eyes sharpening as I started to speak. Nothing about her posture was guarded, but I still had the feeling of staring into the eyes of a being of terrible power. "Tell me what happened to the Shepherds. All of them." I knew some of the answers, but this was as much a test of her honesty, as a search for actual information. Gri nodded, her face drawing tight.

"I can do that, but it is going to take some time." There was no hint of reticence in those words, only warning. I nodded, motioning her to start. Gri sighed, leaning back in the chair.

"You know about your Father's death," She began. "But other than that, I advise that you throw any notion of the events surrounding the Shepherds to the wind." I blinked. "Most of the stories that circulated were lies, carefully crafted lies, but lies none the less." Gri sighed, running a hand through her hair, before offering a rueful mumble. "I would know, I created some of them." I frowned. "Believe it or not, it was to protect you lot." She gestured at me. I guessed my face betrayed skepticism, but I held my tongue as she went on. "Look at it this way Lucina. What would you have done if you heard rumors that your Mother was being held captive and horribly tortured?

I flinched. What kind of question was that? "Go save her." I replied at once. Gri nodded, her eyes sad.

"And walk right into a trap." She countered. "In the few times I had anything resembling free will, I ensured the rumors of the deaths of the Shepherds passed about, so that none of you would get ideas." She sighed, looking very tired. "Grima was never pleased with that."

"I would imagine not." I agreed, as the innkeeper brought my food. Gri leaned forwards.

"Some of the Shepherds did in fact die during battle, although often not at the battles the rumors said. Vaike, for example was killed in a nasty skirmish with Grimeal to the north, as opposed on the Plegian border." Gri frowned. "Most of the Shepherds who had children were captured alive however." I gulped. "The fate they suffered could be argued as worse than death. Substantially."

"That happened to my mother?" I whispered around eating. Gri nodded, her dark hair falling down around her face.

"Worse." That admission came halting, as though she didn't want to give voice to the thought. "Sumia was the first one Grima brought back for torture." There was a pause. "He loved to taunt her, about the horror he intended to inflict on you when you were captured." Gri's voice was dispassionate, radiating an emotionless fury that stood in complete contrast to the boiling rage rising inside me.

"What kind of horror did that include?" I asked. Gri considered that answer for a long time.

"That is not something you're going to want to hear while eating." She replied. "You have seen war Lucina, but torture, especially that of Grima in his element is enough to turn even _my_ stomach, and I had years to become inured to it."

I glared at her. "Just tell me." It wasn't a request. Gri sighed, but nodded, visibly shelving her reluctance.

"Very well." Gri closed her eyes. The emotion bled from her voice, leaving only monotone words, and bland inflection. "The least horrific thing Grima promise to make Sumia watch him do to you was to slice the flesh from your bones, in paper thin strips. He promised to force you to drink boiling lead, to force you to eat your own organs. One particular day, he threatened that if she didn't cooperate, when he caught you, he'd give you to some of the less savory Grimeal and let them do as they wished with you, then give them Sumia as well."

I gasped, my blood running cold. Gri's stormy eyes bored into my own, the hardness they contained painful.

"That was the lightest?" I sounded hoarse with fear. Gri nodded.

"Oh yes." The bitter note was striking in comparison to her previously cold words. "Your mother was a credit to herself however. She didn't break." Gri's words carried a note of sadness in them however.

"How did she die?" I asked. Gri bowed her head.

"In one of the few times that I had my own body under control, I did as she asked, and ended her life." There was a pause. "I would have saved her if I could Lucina…" To my genuine surprise, Gri did seem quite pained by my words. I shook my head.

"I don't blame you." And for some reason, I didn't. By that point, I had come to terms with the idea that Gri and Grima were different, despite the fact that she had taken a part of his name as her own. Were she still Grima, nothing would have been gained by telling me those thigns, besides reinforcing my desire to end the Dark Dragon once and for all. Silence lapsed between us. "Thank you." I whispered. Gri arched an eyebrow, a gesture that conveyed a whole host of questions. "For your honesty." I replied. The eyebrow stayed arched. "You could have lied," I pointed out. She shrugged.

"Lying to you in the interest of sparing your feelings achieves nothing." She replied. "Besides pissing you off down the road." I could appreciate the pragmatism of those words. Gri seemed to understand I didn't want, or at least require, her to keep talking, and she stood, before reaching across the table, to place her fingers over the shattered knuckles of my left hand. I winced in pain, then gasped as a flood of warmth filled my hand, pushing the pain away. "Goodnight Lucina." There was an underlying tiredness to her words. Without any further ceremony, Gri pushed up from the table, and strode out the door. Just before it shut, I watched the flash of lightning that indicated she had teleported away.

With the other woman gone, I couldn't help but frown. Despite having given it much thought, I remained unsure what to think of the Lady of Grima. She had been honest the two times we had met, and my father seemed well protected under her guard. None the less, from my perspective, less than a month ago, she had been the vessel of my mortal enemy.

Resolving to leave the issue of Gri for another day, I scarfed down the rest of my meal, and headed to the room I had rented, hopefully to get some sleep.

 **A/N: So…every time I tell myself I'm going to get a consistent upload schedule for this thing, I fail. Pretty hard. Which is sad, because I have the next ninety odd thousand words of the story written, I just have to bloody edit them. Props to Aura of Twilight for yelling at me to get off my arse, and do that. Also props to her for kinda betaing this pile of stuff for me…because yeah. It's a lot. Anyways, next chapter is written, need to start editing it…hopefully that won't take long!**

 **Reviews are always appreciated, so please, let me know what you think about the story. Did I leave a glaring plothole? Have I been always misspelling something (Frederick's name)? Questions? Concerns? Leave a review, drop me a PM, and let me know. I want to make this story the best I can, so all feedback is welcome!**


	9. Chapter Eight: Grim Tidings

**Chapter Eight: Grim Tidings**

 **Tactician of Ylisse: Robin**

The march south back into Ylisse was a rather jubilant one, as the promise of Feroxi help meant Ylisse could at last put a stop to the Plegian invasions. The only person in the army unhappy was Gri, but I had determined her default facial expression was an angry glare, and thus didn't count towards any sort of morale assessment.

Towards the back of the army, I could see Sumia and Chrom engaged in conversation. The Pegasus rider was red as a tomato, but from the little lip reading I could manage, she didn't appear to be stumbling over her own words, which seemed to be a good thing. From the corner of my eye, I saw Gri regarding the pair of them with a ghost of a smile on her face.

Putting that aside, I ran a quick hand through my hair. Chrom had been making noise that as soon as details of how Feroxi and Ylissean troops would be deployed were worked out, the Shepherds would be involved in helping clear the border. That meant I needed to start preparing now.

Casting thoughts of the strange woman aside, I had to stop and wonder how I'd gotten dragged into this mess. Less than a week ago, I had been passed out in a field, with no memory. I still had no memory, but now, I was functionally the general of a small army, and had apparent been complicit in a culturally sanctioned coup.

Another sideways glance assured me that Lon'qu, the foreign swordsman that the other Khan, Bassilo, I recalled his name being, had seconded to Chrom. That man appeared to have a crippling fear of the fairer sex, which struck me as peculiar, but I gave no other thoughts to it, after all everyone had their quirks.

"You appear pensive." Frederick's rumbling words made me jump, and I was halfway through drawing my sword before I caught up with the fact it was Fredrick. "And jumpy." The knight added.

I made a soft growl. "So says Fredrick the Wary." The man had the good grace to look ashamed. "As for being pensive, I suppose." I shrugged. "This entire situation is insane."

To my surprise, Fredrick gave a deep rolling laugh. "I couldn't agree more." He sobered. "I notice you convinced Sumia to talk to the Prince." His tone was somewhat impressed. I gave a gesture at Gri.

"Gri helped as well," I replied. "And she seems an able warrior, if lacking for confidence." Fredrick nodded.

"As well as a desire to not make things difficult for Chrom should he marry a common woman." I made a noise that was between a snarl and snort. "That amuses you?"

"I have only known all of you for a week, give or take, Fredrick but I can safely say that Chrom doesn't gave the ass end of a rat about that."

The armored man gave another booming laugh. "I never said her fear was founded, Robin, I only said that was her fear." I shook my head. Privately, I thought that was just an excuse that she fed Frederick, but I wasn't about to say as much. Sumia lacked for confidence, although not much else.

"I hope she figures out that he doesn't care." I admitted, meaning every word. Chrom cared for her deeply, that was obvious. Hell, the man wore his heart on his sleeve. Frederick gave a slight nod.

"I don't disagree with you Robin." He replied. I let a silence stretch between us for a time, as I contemplated the best way to ask my next question.

"What changed your mind about me Fredrick?" I asked him. The man stumbled over nothing. I caught his arm, keeping him from falling with some difficulty.

"I deserved that." He admitted after righting himself. "You have given me no reason to distrust you Robin, aside from your bizarre memory, and you have fought well alongside us." There was another more companionable silence between us. "Especially against Marth." I snorted, shaking my head. For the last day, everyone had said nothing but praise for my fight with Marth.

"I got lucky." I replied. Fredrick shook his head. I let him go on about it for a while, making polite remarks when it was expected. Regardless, that fight bothered me.

There was no dodging the fact that I had gotten lucky. Marth was worlds away from my skill level, and should, without any difficulty at all, have sliced me to ribbons, and coated that arena floor in my blood. Yet the mysterious man had held back, fighting me on my own level, as opposed to his. What this achieved I didn't know.

The soft swishing of a cloak told me that Gri had fallen into step beside me. "What do you want?" I groused at her. She didn't answer for a moment. "Here to congratulate me on my fight with Marth?" I couldn't keep the bitterness out of my tone. The other woman seemed unfazed however.

"No." The neutral tone was measured. "In point of fact, I wasn't going to bring that up at all. I gather from your tone however, you dislike the fact that everyone seems to have missed the fact that Marth was holding back." I opened my mouth to rant, before coming up short.

"Um…yes." I confessed, taken aback by just how blunt Gri had approached the issue. Her eyes glinted. "How do you know?" Gri shrugged, her expression never wavering from that bland, all seeing stare.

"Easy." She sighed. "When I first when after Marth, he took exception to my existence, or some such, and attacked me." Her eyes were hard and cold. "I'm a fair hand with a sword, but he was a different league." I winced. That was a terrifying prospect. Gri was, most likely the best fighter in the Shepherds at this point. Chrom was better than I, and so, in truth, was Sumia. Fredrick was better than me as well, but I suspected worse than the other two. I didn't know enough about Sully and Stahl, but Vaike hadn't impressed me so much. Perhaps because the oaf lost his blooming axe. How the living hell does one do that?

"The idea that he let me win doesn't make sense." Gri shook her head.

"I don't think he let you win Robin. I think he was holding back on purpose, and underestimated you." I frowned. Gri's logic made sense, and her words came out with remarkable surety behind them. Her thoughts even lined up with my own.

"Why though?" I pointed out. Gri's eyes flashed with something, an emotion that I didn't know, guilt perhaps? What would Gri have to be guilty about, I wondered. Unless she knew more about Marth than she let on. That seemed to be the most likely option, although I couldn't figure out where. "Gri?" I asked her. The woman gave a sideways glance, and motioned that she was listening. "What do you know about Marth?"

There was a long pause. Gri seemed to be giving the question far more thought than it deserved. "Not a whole lot. I know he is an extremely skilled warrior, although with no magical potential to speak of. Despite my best efforts, getting much other information is impossible." I noticed a slight hitch to her voice when she used the male pronoun, which seemed odd, but I didn't mention it.

"I see." I sighed. Gri hadn't revealed any information that I would have expected she might have, which was a problem. The woman was just too careful. It was almost as if she knew questions we might ask, and had answers ready.

I shook off that line of thought. It made me sound too much like Frederick. Maybe I was being too paranoid. None the less, things didn't add up. Before too many questions could be asked, a cavalry rider came thundering up.

"Prince Chrom! Prince Chrom!" The man shouted. Chrom came.

"What is it?" he demanded, hand hovering over his Falchion. The soldier took a moment to take a breath.

"Lady Maribelle! She's been kidnapped by Plegian forces my lord!" I frowned. Maribelle. She was that somewhat snotty noblewoman who had fawned over Lissa. A bit abrasive, but seemed none the less alright enough. Granted, I'd dealt with her very little so it was hard to form an opinion.

"Shit!" Chrom swore, gripping his sword. "Is there anything else?" The soldier gave a tentative nod.

"Yes my Lord. Gangrel has demanded the exalt parlay for her release, and even now she rides to meet him."

The expletives flew from Chrom and Gri, and I felt compelled to join in although I decided that it wasn't worth it. The soldier cringed. Fredrick was gripping his lance tightly, eyes set in a hard rage.

"When did she leave?" Chrom asked, his voice tinged with fear and rage. I began doing some math in my head, trying to come up with a good guess of how far the Exalt might have gone based on the few maps I had seen.

"She left two days ago mi'lord." The man paused, and seemed to consider. "I have ridden hard mi'lord, and I suspect they have not, so you should be able to catch them without difficulty."

Gri spoke up, her voice flecked with worry and a cold rage. "Where along the border was Lady Maribelle taken?" I found it odd that Gri used an actual title for Maribelle, as she addressed everyone else by names. Names that sometimes I found her knowledge of quite bizarre.

The soldier blinked at the seeming non sequitur. "Near her manor, miss?" I supposed it was easy enough to imagine he'd met all the other Shepherds besides Gri, and the confusion in her expression was simply at the appearance of an unknown woman.

Said woman turned to Chrom. "Should I find your sister and ask that she wait for you to catch up?" I opened my mouth to as how, then remembered Gri could, through a feat of magic well outside my skill, teleport. Chrom seemed to remember this as well, for he gave a sharp nod.

"Please." Without waiting for the man to continue, Gri twisted, her magic roaring to life in a tower of lightening. I flinched, the searing wash of power that exploded across the area threatening to topple me. A distance away, Miriel dropped to one knee, having been overcome by the outwash. Chrom flinched, and the soldier gawked.

"We'd best get moving." I told Chrom. He shook himself, before giving a shaky nod. The soldier gulped.

"Is she always like that?" He pointed at the spot Gri had been. I shrugged, feeling a bit helpless.

"Often, yes." Chrom admitted. "Now, lead on." The soldier nodded, reigning his horse around and heading off. Chrom swung up onto his own horse. I followed, as did the rest of our group. Sumia's Pegasus kicked off, swooping into the skies.

As we rode, I considered the area that the soldier implied we were racing towards. It was mountainous, with the Ylissean holdings on the downward slopes. Any sort of battle to be joined would be at a disadvantage, and a steep one at that.

I frowned, wondering why I was speaking of battle as if it were a forgone conclusion. Then again, Gri had spoken of Gangrel in terms of bloodlust, and warmongering. Her scorn for the man was painfully obvious, especially when the subject of Ylisse and Plegian relations came up.

Her expression when the soldier said the Exalt had gone to parlay with the Plegian King had been one of fear, frustration, and I swore there was grudging admiration in there as well.

"Do you expect Gri to come back, or wait for us?" Chrom asked me as we rode. I shrugged.

Predicting the other woman was difficult at best. One minute, she reacted just as I might, then, she would react to events with a well-rehearsed coldness. "I don't imagine she will." I allowed. "While she had never expressly stated as such, teleportation seems to drain a substantial amount of magic from her, and given that we are riding hard, I doubt she will want to expend the energy to hunt us down." Chrom nodded.

"I wish Emm would show at least a little more caution." He muttered.

The ride passed in relative silence from that point onwards. I had a growing feeling of fear. My magic pulsed, almost eager for battle.

"Emm!" Chrom shouted as we neared a small procession. I spotted Gri standing off to the side, her eyes hard as steel. At Chrom shout, she turned, striding towards us, cloak billowing. "Gri, where is my sister?" The Prince asked, utterly unimpressed with Gri's imposing figure.

"At the center of this exercise in idiocy." The scorn in her voice was palpable. "She is walking into a trap, and steadfastly refuses to see that fact." Chrom sighed.

"I will attempt to make her see sense, but my sister is nothing if not strong willed." He replied. Gri gave a sharp nod. Without saying another word, Chrom dismounted, striding into the camp. Some of the Shepherds, including Fredrick followed, leaving Gri and I alone on the edge of the procession, which had halted.

"No matter what she does, Gangrel is going to attack isn't he?" I asked, hoping that Gri's response was negative. There was a pause.

"He will attack." Her certainty was terrifying.

"That is not what concerns you, is it?" I asked, struck by a sudden intuition. Gri shook her head.

"No. What worries me most is that Gangrel knows he can exploit her." There was a pause. "He will use her desire for peace against her to start a war." I shivered at the certainty in her words.

"Damnit." I mumbled. "He's that vile of a person?" There was a pause, before Gri started to laugh. It wasn't a cheerful laugh, no the laugh was low, menacing, enough to make my shiver despite the heat.

"Gangrel is one of the vilest pieces of human filth to exist. His depravity is only exceeded by my own Father. " She replied. "His desire for revenge is only eclipsed by the depravity he will sink to in that pursuit." I cringed. The cold and certain nature of her words could only have been born of experience, I thought, which did not help the tension building.

"You said you can teach me Fell magic." I made a choice at that moment. If war was coming, I need any and all advantages, even if it meant touching the horrible magic that seemed to come so easily to Gri.

"Yes." The words were guarded, as thought she was unsure was the appropriate response was. "The magic of Grima is not one that should be handled without due caution however." I nodded.

"I understand that. However, I still want to learn. If war is coming as you say, I'll need any and all advantages." Gri nodded, the motion slow.

"I cannot refute that logic." She shrugged. "We might as well start now." She pause, eyes closing. "Sanctum." The word rolled off her tongue, and runes flared to life along her tongue. "Follow." The word was a command. I felt myself smile at the prospect of new knowledge, and started after her.

 **AN: So. Well. This took way to long to edit. Still not terribly happy with the end result, and would welcome any feedback on how to possibly improve it. So…yup! Hope you enjoyed that winding old thing. Questions, concerns, or otherwise feedback are always appreciated, either via review, or you can drop me a PM!**


	10. Chapter Nine: The Mad King

**Chapter 10: The Mad King**

 **Lady of Grima: Gri**

Chrom had insisted that the Shepherds accompany Emmeryn to speak with Gangrel, and, after much badgering, and finally being given an ultimatum, the Exalt had agreed. The expression on the woman's face when Chrom told her quite bluntly, that either the Shepherds were coming too, or he would have me teleport her 'obstinate ass back to the Capitol' brought a wry smile to my face. Although I wasn't sure how well that would have gone. Emmeryn was not the most powerful spell caster, but she was still skilled, and would be able to resist me dragging her around via magic more than the average soldier.

"He's coming." Sumia landed with a light touch, her mount tossing his regal head. I suppressed a shiver as an image of a far younger woman riding that same peagsus was super imposed for a moment. "Maribelle's with him….as is some other woman." I frowned. Who else would be with Gangrel? To my knowledge the Plegian King's insanity had driven away all advisors.

"Noted." Chrom shot Robin a look. The woman's brow furrowed, before she nodded. I shifted, anxious for the waiting to be over. Standing around, acting as an escort to some noble was not a role I relished playing, and from the way Robin's lips were curled in vague disgust, neither did she. Then again, I thought, it was possible that the other woman was simply adjusting to the crawling feeling of Fell magic in her cloak.

I ran my finger over the fabric of my own, identical garment. The runes and wards that imbued the fabric were not especially complex, however, they were powerful. Drawing their strength from the caster, the ones suffusing Robin's cloak were every bit as powerful as my own, if constructed in a different manner.

Her potential for the craft of Fell magic was terrifying. The future, both while possessed, and after being cast aside, had shown me a great many mages who learned the craft of bending Grima's own unique brand of magic to their will, and prior to Grima, I had even encountered Divine Mages, who wielded the magic of Naga as a weapon of war, as opposed to its traditional use in healing staves. None of these warriors held a candle to Robin's potential.

My thoughts were shaken aside as, walking down the mountain side was Gangrel. The Plegian King smiled his trickster smile, eyes dancing with mirth and bloodlust. Behind him a number of paces, more than a dozen soldiers, and cloaked figures surrounded a somewhat worse for the wear Maribelle.

"My my my….what have we here?" I knew that voice instinctively. Female, attempting to be seductive. Rage flared behind my eyes, and Fell magic, which I had swirling just below the surface of my thoughts howled, demanding blood.

"Shit." I hissed, keeping my lips from moving. "Those cloaked ones are Grimeal. So is the psycho bitch." I fixed my eyes on Aversa, contemplating what horrible fate I should inflict on the Grimeal woman. In fairness, Aversa was not truly one of the Grimeal, she was merely a useful puppet of theirs, but none the less, the fact that she was working with Gangrel meant that the followers of Grima had decided that backing him was a good idea, which boded ill for the rest of the world.

"Should I change plans?" Robin muttered back, her voice tense. Chrom tensed as well, moving to stand beside his sister.

"No. Should they cause trouble, I will put an end to them." My reply was, perhaps, more self-assured than it had a right to be.

"What is this? The mighty Exalt of Ylisse?" Gangrel's mocking tone washed over us. "Complete with lapdogs?" A cackle followed those words. I said nothing. Emmeryn for her part, remained unphased by the taunts.

"King Gangrel." Her address was regal, cool headed to fault. The mad King's lips parts just a bit, revealing pristine white teeth, a few filed to slight points. "I have come to learn the truth of this unfortunate incident." Aversa spat at Emmeryn's feet.

"I can give you the truth." The dark clad woman snarled. I had the irrational urge to blast her head from her shoulders, before I clamped down on it. Aversa would get hers, I promised. However, I would respect Emmeryn's wishes for the time being.

Again, the Exalt did not flinch. Chrom, however was shaking with repressed rage. Robin had shifted her stance to a more combative one. I could see the readiness to call forth magic in her eyes. Tension began to build in the air, as the Plegian King continued to smile that manic smile

"Perhaps milady might share her name." The closest thing I had heard to an order from Emmeryn, these words held a hint of steel.

"Her name is Aversa." I cut across the Grimeal servant, seeing no reason to allow her to speak. Her tongue was an sharp as her nails, and conniving to boot. "She is the convenient go-between for the Grimeal and the Plegian throne." I fixed the woman with a glare. "Tell me Aversa, did you volunteer for such an honor, or was it foisted upon you?" I allowed some Fell magic to bleed into my eyes, an age old fear tactic, if one that had little chance of terrifying someone whose free will had been broken years ago.

"Watch your tongue, girl…" She growled. "Or someone might remove it." I smirked. That touched a nerve. Good.

"I welcome your attempt." Show no emotions, I reminded myself. I was the daughter of Validar, born to be the Avatar of their God. Remind them of that fact whenever possible. "Although I suspect the only thing being removed would be yours." The idea of even considering the use of my Father's advice was repulsive, but none the less, his words provided a good way to handle the Grimeal, regardless of my opinions.

"Thank you Gri." Emmeryn murmured. "Aversa. Is Maribelle unharmed?" Gangrel frowned as though genuinely confused by the question, before snapping his fingers.

"Ah yes, that blonde bint." A flick of the wrist, contemptuous, in direction of the men holding her, "I assure you, nothing ill has become of her…." The unspoken yet was obvious. I eyed the Grimeal surrounding Maribelle. Perhaps a dozen more lingered elsewhere, the reek of Fell magic making them easy to sense, if not pinpoint.

From behind him, Maribelle thrashed about in the arms of a brute of a man, gifted with burns and scars aplenty. "Unhanded me you gutter-born troglodyte!" I winced, suspecting the severity of her insults had been increasing since her capture. While amusing, it would not help her cause, or our attempt to negotiate her release. Unless Plegia had improved its standards of recruitment, the men wouldn't understand the word troglodyte, but would at least understand that it was a rather vile insult, and thus react as such.

True to my expectation, the man holding her wrists tightened his grip, and I saw the woman wince. The defiant fire in her eyes did not fade however.

Aversa smiled, a cruel glint of sun upon her nails. "You want your truth Exalt?" Without waiting, the woman plowed on. "This one here crossed the border into Plegia, without consent or warning. Then, what's more, she wounded the noble soldiers who tried to escort her home!" The tone of voice I suspected was supposed to incite shock, fell flat against an audience that didn't believe a word.

"Lies!" Maribelle strained against her captor, eyes flashing with rage. "You speak nothing but lies hag! Did they fail to teach you the meaning of the word truth in wretched-crone school?" I suppressed a smile. In point of fact, the concept of the truth had been tortured out of Aversa, using methods

Said woman offered a patronizing smile. "No manners at all. Such a violent animal must be caged, you know." I clamped down the urge to unleash the might of her god upon her, and laugh. The only violent animals present were Gangrel and herself. Robin seemed to be sharing my mindset. Lissa who stood a ways behind us was near tears. Chrom had his hand upon the Falchion, and a stance of undisguised aggression. Emmeryn still remained unphased.

Taking a deep breath, I reminded myself that I could not fall into the traps she was setting.

Gangrel's delighted, if twisted smile never changed. "Such a violent temper…." He paused, malicious delight in his words. "It speaks towards her guilt." He paused to inspect his nails, as though utterly bored with the situation. "This calls for a weighty punishment. Imagine if she were to… _confess…_ to being an Ylissean spy!" He made the remark in a flippant, offhand manner. At this, Emmeryn tensed, for the first time showing that she was reading beneath the words, to the hidden threat of torture. The sickening smile upon the King's face suggestion worse that torture in Maribelle's future. "It would take a considerable act of good faith to repair out relationships were such a misfortune to occur." Chrom gave what passed for a low growl.

"Sick bastard." Robin snarled. The newly stitched runes upon her cloak where pulsing with power, the freshly energized wards throbbing in time with their mistresses feelings. My own magic swirled, writhing with my own repressed fury.

"I have done nothing wrong!" Maribelle spat. "It is you who should confess, you sadistic excuse for a King! It was your men who invaded Ylisse, razing an entire village in the process!" Scowls were directed at Gangrel, who, serene as ever, picked at something beneath one of his nails, before yawning. "When I tried to intervene, I was dragged back across the border, while they left plundered shops, and charred homes in that village." She glared at Gangrel eyes filled with righteous anger. The detached portion of me sighed in exasperation, as the knowledge that such accusations would not bother the Mad King in the least.

"That, my dear," The King replied, "Proves only that Ylisse has a more severe bandit problem that I had heard of late."

"Be assured," Aversa took over, "That we will weep many tears for your slain villagers."

"I'm sure you will." I spat. Closing my eyes, I willed my Fell magic to the surface. Careful to keep my lips from moving, I mumbled, "Grima, attend me!" The rush of power as I unlocked the font of magic was intoxicating as ever. Racing down my veins, the blackened bloodlust, fueled by anger called for an offering. Although I had my power as my disposal now, I kept it caged, held like a coiled spring.

"I believe you Maribelle." Emmeryn glared at Gangrel in frustration. "I request you unhand this woman at once, King Gangrel. Surely you and I can sort out these affairs without the need for hostages." Her tone was placating, which I knew was the wrong thing to do. The man would only respond with violence.

At once rage flared in Gangrel's eyes. "Without so much as an apology?" This time, the man was spitting in fury. "Why should I even bother with parley then Exalt? I have every right to take her head for a decoration on the dinner table, and be back in time to enjoy such a decoration this very night!"

"You black hearted bastard!" Chrom snarled, the Falchion halfway from its sheath. I opened my mouth in incant magic. Robin twisted, her palm blazing white with lightening.

For his part, Gangrel was did not flinch when faced with our ire.

"Control you dog, my dear." He scolded Emmeryn. "Before he gets someone killed." Pausing to allow the other two to sheath weapons, and release magic, Gangrel went on. "Now." I saw the conniving smirk upon his face. "Perhaps a trade. You will give me the Fire Emblem. In such a case I might….release your little bird."

"Unharmed and in one piece." Aversa added, a wicked gleam to her eyes.

Emmeryn blanched. "You would ask for Ylisse's royal treasure?" I had a sinking feeling. Aversa was here. Grimeal lined the hills. They wanted the Fire Emblem. This wasn't about Ylisse at all. This was about reviving the Fell Dragon. Mentally, I clamped down on a curse. I should have seen this coming.

"Because," Gangrel crowed, "I know the legend! The Emblem is the key to your wishes being realized. I have desired such a present for years, but alas, my birthday comes and goes, but not a parcel from Ylisse…." An ominous chuckle followed.

"The Emblem's power is meant for a single purpose King Gangrel." Now it was Emmeryn's turn to scold. "To save the world in an hour of direst need. Is there no nobler wish?"

I shifted to a combative stance. This conversation, I knew would end soon. Gangrel would tire of playing with Emmeryn, and blood would be shed. With this many Grimeal standing around, I had to be ready.

Indeed, the smile on Gangrel's face betrayed his bloodlust. "I want what every Plegian wants Exalt!" He stepped forwards, stance threatening. "A grisly end for each and every citizen of your perfect little country!" Spittle flew from his lips. "Is there a goal nobler?" I shivered as the bastard threw the Exalts words back at her.

"What?" Emmeryn seemed repulsed, even more so than normal.

"Surely, your Exaltedness, you have not forgotten what your _father_ did to our people? He named us heathens, crusading across Plegia, bleeding and burning my subjects by the thousand!" I winced. The man had a genuine grievance with Ylisse, I knew, which made this all the worse. Ate least

"I have never denied Ylisse's past wrongdoings." Emmeryn replied, holding her head high. "Just as I have vowed to never repeat them. Our's is a land of peace, King Gangrel."

Wild fire danced in the man's eyes. "No! Yours is now a haven of hypocrisy! Now, give me the Fire Emblem!" He snarled, Maribelle screamed a denial from behind him. One of the Grimeal standing beside her slapped her in the face.

"Shut your mouth bitch." I heard him spit.

"Tick tock, your Grace!" Aversa smirked that cruel smile of hers. Fell magic boiled in my veins screaming for release, for blood.

"The negotiation is over." Gangrel announced, having reached in limits. I felt the magical signatures of the Grimeal move. "Your Lumosity, I shall have that Emblem, even if I must pry it from your cold dead hands!"

With those words, Grimeal leapt from the shadows, alongside more than four dozen soldiers, Chrom stepped protectively in front of his sister. I gave a cold smile, meeting Aversa's eyes.

"Ex Astris:" Thunder seemed to ring with my words. Aversa's eyes widening in an almost comical nature, as the power of the Fell Dragon roared to being, my restraint of my magic falling, leaving only a thundering wave of power in it's place. "GRIMA!" I snarled, feeling the rush of cold energy stream from my limbs. The Grimeal, most of whom had been in the process of calling for magic, screamed in agony, as the black energy swirled up, engulfing them.

"No!" Aversa screamed, retreating. Terror and shock flared in her eyes as the realization she was facing a Fell Mage. I stepped forwards, throwing caution to the wind. When dealing with Grimeal, I knew, the Lady of Grima would achieve the best results.

"Your God is angry, Aversa!" I snarled, my voice deepening the more Fell magic I called upon. While it would never reach the gravely baritone of Grima, I could impersonate the Fell Dragon well. "Ex Astris: Vilhume!" I threw my palm forwards. A bolt of black lightening jumped from my palm. Unlike traditional magic, the invocations for Fell magic did not have translations, as the meaning of the words had been lost to time, so I couldn't say for certain what this spell was intended to do, however, I could guess, as the bolt slammed into the earth were Aversa had once stood. The woman herself had jumped away, rolling across the hard earth. The point where just a moment before she had stood was transformed into an explosion of browns and greys as the rock and earth was shattered, and thrown about.

"Now that," Gangrel cried, "Is a declaration of war if I ever saw one!" A big messy war that will bleed you Ylisseans dry!" I spun, calling conventional thunder magic to my palm.

"Bolt!" I spat, throwing a Thoron bolt at the enemy King. He leapt back, graceful as ever, before being forced into a surprised roll as Robin unleashed her own fury upon him. I smirked, just a bit. Robin stepped forwards, joining me at Chrom's side. I would have liked to think we cut a rather terrifying figure, Robin and I with our cloaks alight with power, and snapping in a breeze of our own making, while Chrom's Falchion shone like a beacon.

The King cackled, running off as the rest of the Shepherds came running up close, weapons in hand.

"Captain!" Sumia dropped down beside us. "Are you alright!" Chrom nodded, giving Sumia a grim smile.

"Just fine." He offered Robin and I nods. "Thanks to these two." It was at that moment that I noticed the bandit dead at Chrom's left. A hole had been burned clean through the man. I winced. That kind of magic took some serious oomph to pull off. Although spells inflicted serious wounds, the idea of blasting a hole cleanly through a torso was more farfetched than most liked to think. Even I could only pull off such a feat occasionally. A combination of the human body naturally resisting magical assault, and wards meant that such feats tended to be impossible.

"Sumia, in the air! Kellam, Chrom, take the center. Sully and Stahl, defend our flanks." Robin barked. "Gri, I need you to rescue Maribelle and…is that Ricken?" I flicked a glance up the plateau, where Maribelle had been dragged. I knew what Robin wanted. Me to teleport up, and bring them back.

"I won't be able to bring them back with me." I warned. "You'll have to fight your way up to us." Robin waved a hand, and I could see her mind already working the possibilities.

"That is the plan already." She snapped. I nodded, feeling satisfied that the woman had a functional plan. Robin's tactical mind was sound, and as long as she had a plan, I was of no doubt there would be success.

I stepped forwards, willing myself to another place. It was funny, I thought. Combat magic was regarded as some of the most draining, so much so that they required tomes to be created as foci. Even powerful mages such as myself, Emmeryn, or even Robin, needed the tomes to prevent the power drawn by combat magic from becoming exhausting. Teleportation however, was not able to be focused using a tome, at least, not when you were teleporting yourself.

Divine mages, had long ago learned how to bind the same spell into staves that drug others about, but never the caster. I knew staves that allowed other's to teleport tended to break quite swiftly, as channeling the requisite magical energy put an enormous strain on the runic arrays that staves relied on.

I moved myself only a few short meters with my burst of magic, however, the drain on my reserves was painful. Locking my knees to prevent myself from staggering, I faced a group of Plegian soldiers bearing down on Ricken and Maribelle.

"Whoa!" It was most definitely Ricken, I absently noted. His voice, even in the future had been distinctive. I flicked my wrist, mumbling a quick invocation. A bolt of thunder magic snapped from my left hand, piercing the skull of the foremost soldier, a myrmidon, who only had time for a surprised squawk before his death. The sounds of fighting began to rise from the slopes below, accompanied by the howls of magic from Robin and Miriel.

"She killed the Captain!" One of the soldiers snarled, raising his axe. I arched an eyebrow, almost amused. Did I care what his rank was? Without waiting for my response, or displaying any sort of fear, the men charged. I drew my sword, letting magic flow though my veins.

"May death have mercy on your souls." I spat, leaping to attack. A flash of razor sharp wind past my ears indicated Ricken's contribution to the battle. The first soldier, who had shouted a moment ago met a swift and grizzly end, between the biting winds, and my sword.

I allowed myself to become submerged in the ebb and flow of combat, relying on Ricken's good aim to avoid being sliced to ribbons. I knew my cloaks' runes would be perfectly capable of taking the damage, but I didn't' want to expend more Fell magic than I had too.

"My goodness!" Maribelle exclaimed, as I finished a complex spinning maneuver that, in a one on one fight, I would never have considered a viable tactic, however, in a massive brawl such as this one, it worked well enough to decapitate the surrounding men. Ricken's magic continued to snap and crack about me, sending my cloak whipping about.

I was first cognizant of pain at that point. The cuts, impossibly, were underneath the plates of my armor, leading me to believe that it was some variety of wind magic I didn't know.

"That was awesome!" Ricken bounced excitedly on the balls of his feet. Sweat dripped from his brow, and his arms were shaking, but his eyes gleamed with the boundless energy of youth.

"I would have suggested uncouth." Maribelle's voice shook only a small amount, which I supposed was a character statement. The prissy noblewoman was made of sterner stuff than I had thought. Then again, she had… I shut that thought down hard. "None the less, thank you."

"Er…miss?" Ricken gulped, gesturing over my shoulder. I glanced back, wincing. More than forty Plegian soldiers advanced, picking their way through the field of corpses Ricken's spells and my sword had left. "I can't cast too many more spells." The young man admitted, his face paling, a feat, considering magical overuse had already paled him a considerable degree.

"Shit." I closed my eyes. Between a high powered pair of Fell magic castings, and teleportation, I was pushing the limits of my own endurance, or at least, the limits of my control. More than ten minutes of hard combat had drained me further. Holding my sword was becoming more of a chore by the minute. I was a prodigious warrior, but even I had my limits.

The soft sound of wings was the only indication of danger, before a man atop of battle scared wyvern dove towards Maribelle. The noblewoman gave a shriek of terror. My hand snapped up, my lips forming a spell. Ricken was halfway through turning, but I already knew that neither of us would get magic off in time.

"Arcthunder!" Robin's voice rang, her surety lending force to the white lance of energy that jumped from outside my vision, to strike the drake. Despite the seeming impossibility of the feat, the impact hurled the airborne lizard back, unseated the rider. I spun, feeling a bit of relief as Robin and the rest of the Shepherds crested the hill. The advancing soldiers drew up short at the new arrivals.

"Ex Astris: Grima!" I pulled a small amount more Fell magic, as much as I dared. The dark roar in my ears suggested I had been too generous in my estimate.

The soldier's shadows rose up, shallowing them, screams and all. Using the distraction I had provided most deliberately, the Shepherds charged, blades flashing. I caught site of Sumia diving out of the air to skewer an archer, while Robin was in the center of the battle, sword and magic ablaze.

As I watched the other woman fight, I was struck by just how similar to me she was. The sword stance we both used was less refined than my own, perhaps, but she fought exactly as I did. Low starting stance, relying more on speed and unpredictability than pure power, left hand held forwards for easy casting of magic.

I followed the Shepherds, continuing my musings on the similarities between Robin and I, which, I realized, were more than a shared fighting style. That, I would have dismissed as coincidence. The physical similarities were abundant as well. Facial structure, hair color, eye color, and the list went on. Hell, I was the exact same height and build as she was. Even mannerisms were the same. I never considered myself a brilliant tactical mind, but I supposed that, when I thought about it, I wouldn't have made difference choices from Robin, except in cases where my centuries of knowledge would have been helpful.

Swearing under my breath, I snapped off a pair of spells, dropping some archers from a higher plateau. I had never expected to so readily encounter my past self when I had ascended to that shattered temple on Mt. Prism. In truth, I never expected to find my past self at all.

The question now was how to handle this situation. If I hadn't come up with a solution over several hundred years, Robin was unlikely to have one either.


	11. Chapter Ten: Changing Times

**Chapter Eleven: Changing Times**

 **Tactician of Ylisse: Robin**

The Plegian Captain toppled from his Wyvern with a bone crunching thwack. The lizard, freed of bondage, roared in delight, and took wing, vanishing into the sky.

"That's that." Chrom sighed from my left. "This wasn't supposed to happen." I gave him a sideways look. I'm not sure what he expected, but I knew from the moment we clapped eyes on the king this would have been the result.

"Gangrel wasn't going to negotiate." I pointed out. The man nodded, running a hand through his hair.

"I know." He sighed. "Still, Emm has been trying so hard to avoid this and then I go and…"

"If anyone started a war, it was me." Gri's voice was tired. "As I recall, my magic drew first blood." Chrom gave her a searching look. "Don't beat yourself up Chrom." She advised.

"Gri is right." I told him. "The son of a bitch was going to start a war some way or another. All we can do is prepare."

"Big Brother!" Lissa came running up, panting hard. "Emmeryn wants to talk to you…" She doubled over, breath coming in ragged heaves.

"Hm." Gri frowned. I focused on her, wondering what was going on with the other woman. There was sometime pensive about her gaze, almost as if she was sizing me up, or perhaps seeing me in a new light.

I had seen the same emotion roiling behind her eyes last night, as she explained the principles of channeling Fell magic, using the etching of runes into my cloak as an explanation method. Just thinking about my cloak made me shiver. The runes I had etched into the surface, even now glowing a sulfurous orange, made my skin crawl, although I had witnessed first-hand their protective power.

Thinking about that made my lips curl into a vague smirk. Gri had demonstrated the effectiveness of the runes via a simple means: Letting me slug the most powerful magic I knew at her. Although I could only muster up perhaps two Thoron bolts without collapsing from exhaustion, I had borrowed the tome, and hurled the spell at the other woman, to no effect, despite needing minutes to prepare the attack. I'd tried using a sword. Nothing.

Gri had been quite pleased with herself when the strongest magic I knew splattered harmlessly across the garment. At the time, I had been stupefied, looking back, I was terrified. In all the battles I had seen her participate, Gri never activated those runes. The idea that she was so confident in herself that she didn't need such tools crossed my mind, but I discarded it within minutes as Gri never struck me as arrogant. Instead, I suspect some other motive held her back, although what it was, I could not say. None the less, giving any sort of thought to the concept that Gri was even more powerful than she showed, made me shudder.

Chrom nodded, heading off with Lissa, leaving Gri and I alone once again. "He seems to make a habit of this." I mused aloud. Gri gave a snort.

"Randomly walking off leaving us alone? Yes he does." There was a long silence that stretched between us, before an excited voice broke in.

"Hey! Miss!" I turned. A young man, I recalled Chrom saying his name was Ricken came running up. I vaguely remembered seeing him fighting alongside Gri to defend Maribelle. Well, based on the carnage, Gri had done most of the defending, although the kid had gotten himself a few kills along the way.

"Yes?" Gri and I asked at the same time. I gave her a quick look, only to find her eyes boring into my own. I shuddered under that gaze, and looked away. The kid stopped in front of us, chest heaving.

"Can you teach me how to use magic like that?" His eyes flitted between either of us. "Throwing lighting all over?" I swore the kid was going to bounce out of his skin.

"No, Ricken, we can't." Gri spoke before I could, although I knew the reason. Both of us had leaned on Fell magic in the battle, myself perhaps not quite as much, due to both my lack of skill in the new branch of power, and I suspected I did not have quite as deep a well to call upon.

"Aww…why not?" He demanded, glaring. Gri sighed.

"Because it's a unique brand of magic Ricken." I replied. "You are either born with the ability to use it, or you aren't. Besides," I paused, remembering something Gri had told me. "It's not the sort of magic you want to dabble in lightly. Misuse can destroy your very soul."

"Oh…" He seemed to wilt. Gri, whether taking pity on him, or genuinely caring, I didn't know, spoke up.

"How's this Ricken," she offered, "When we get back to Yllissetol, Robin and I will help you with conventional magic." She gave me a quick look, which almost begged me to agree. I gave a shallow nod to indicate my agreement. After all, there wasn't a reason not to.

Ricken brightened at once. "Really? Cool!" He jumped up and down, before running back into the camp that had been constructed ad hoc. I sighed.

"Can none of the people I meet be something resembling normal?" I grumbled, without much malice. Gri, for her part, was just amused.

"I have always been of the opinion the normalcy is both overrated, and boring." She pointed out with a shrug. "I'll leave you to tacticainany things." With that parting language failure, the woman spun on her heels, cloak flapping dramatically.

As she departed, I couldn't help but find some degree of entertainment in Gri's actions. The gesture was one I actually recognized from myself, although I had made it only once before, in Ferox after Vaike's antics had gotten on my nerves.

"Um…Robin?" The voice was soft, and I knew at once it belonged to Sumia.

"Hello Sumia." I gave the Pegasus riding woman a quick smile. In the short time I had known her, Sumia had grown from someone who tripped over her own boots into a warrior with at least a façade of self-assurance.

"Are you alright?" Sumia asked, her face lined with concern. "You seem very lost in thought."

I gave a nod in agreement. "All of this." I sighed. "I'm hardly qualified to lead the Shepherds Sumia, never mind an entire goddamn army, in a full blown war." The slight profanity slipped out with my frustrations. "Thousands of lives are going to rest on my shoulders, on my ability to outthink a twisted disgusting bastard who will stop at nothing to burn us all at the stake.

"I have no doubt of your impending success." Another voice, this one also female, and much more self-assured than Sumia's broke in. "I have no doubts that you will lead us to victory, Lady Robin." Miriel's statement did little to quell my fears.

"I appreciate the confidence." I muttered. Leading armies was an entirely different game than leading small groups of soldiers as I had up to this point.

"Chrom has placed his trust in your judgement." Miriel pointed out. "And having watched you, I can be entrust the safety of our nation to you." With those words, she continued into the camp.

"Pegasus inbound!" A voice from the edge of the camp, the one where Emmeryn's entourage was camped called out. "They are dropping fast!" Sumia and I turned at once to the direction the shout had come from.

"Whoever that is," I realized, "They won't make it to the camp. And they aren't our enemy. No Plegian would have arrows stuck in them." Sumia gave a nod, before mounting her Pegasus in a single smooth motion.

"Coming?" She asked me. I blinked in confusion. "I'm going to make sure whoever that is gets to camp alright." I gave a nod, accepting the proffered hand to pull myself onto the Pegasus.

"I'll come." I agree, wrapping one arm around Sumia to hold on. With the other, I gathered magic. Although I doubted this person was hostile, caution was still advised. I gave myself a mental swat. Fredrick appeared to have rubbed off more than I thought.

The flight to the edge of the camp was short, and below I saw a few soldiers standing at the ready, along with a frowning Frederick. As Sumia and I passed overhead, he offered a salute, and a pointed gaze. I returned a nod, his message understood.

Sumia coaxed her Pegasus to a lower height, as the flier in the distance continued to lose height. I winced. The terrain here was the worst for a crash. Nothing for rocks and hard clay for miles around.

"Gods!" Sumia's terrified explanation shook me from my thoughts of the mystery person's impending crash. "That's….oh gods!" As if sensing it's owner's anxiety Sumia's Pegasus accelerated, straining into the wind to catch up. I frowned. What had Sumia so worried? It was easy enough to tell that she knew the rider in the distance.

The other Pegasus was, despite odds I thought impossible, able to make an almost serviceable landing, before toppling sideways, and spilling it's rider to the earth. I caught sight of red hair, before the wings of Sumia's landing Pegasus cut off my view. The instant solid ground was beneath us, Sumia leapt from her saddle, rushing to the fallen rider.

I dismounted in a more sedate fashion, letting magic fade from my hands. It was obvious the new arrival was not a threat. Either that, or an actor of great skill, at which point paranoia was my only defense, and I hadn't sunk that far yet.

"Robin!" Sumia was almost frantic. I frowned, before noticing the blood pooling beneath whoever the person was. "Can you do anything?" She asked me. I frowned, moving to kneel beside the frantic Pegasus rider.

"I…I will see what I can do." I offered. "Why don't you look at her Pegasus?" I offered, without waiting for an answer, I set to work figuring out what injuries the woman had suffered.

An arrow was stuck in her side, along with several other slashes. The shoulder pad of her armor was on its way to having been melted, probably by a blast of rather powerful magic. A number of smaller wounds covered her arms and legs, although on nasty blow down the outside of her thigh suggested a running battle had taken place. Wincing, I tried to remember what Gri had said about alternative branches of magic.

Fell magic, which you had to be born with the natural talent for, was the magic of Grima, the Fell Dragon, I remembered snorting at the name. However, there was another branch of magic attached to Grima's opposite, Naga the Divine Dragon.

Divine magic was the type used in Staves, and was, as befit the opposite of Fell magic, often used for healing. Staves were used to catalyze the magic because casting Divine magic was far more exhausting, as it involved prayer to Naga, and pulling the magic into yourself, holding it there, and pushing out. As a Fell mage, I suspected Naga would look poorly upon any entreaty of mine. Gri had alluded to the same thing, although she had admitted to never trying, out of, I suspected self-preservation.

"Sumia." I spoke softly, calling upon fire magic, to burn the arrow in the woman's side out. "I need your help."

"Me?" Sumia met my eyes with worry. "Robin, I can't do magic!" She objected.

I shook my head. "I don't need you to do magic." I told her. "This is probably the most insane request at the moment, but I need you to ask Naga for her help." Sumia gave me a look that clearly indicated I had lost my mind. "I know, I know. I'd do it myself, but Fell Magic, and Naga…." Sumia understood that part. "I'll handle the magic part." Sumia nodded, her eyes closing, and I swore I saw tears in her eyes.

Gently taking the woman's hand, I closed my eyes to focus. I had burned through so much magic today, I wasn't sure this would work. However, I also knew that, unless I did something, this woman would die.

Taking a deep breath, I centered myself, reaching inside for my own magic. Without the time to filter the Fell magic from my natural power, the pain I was about to subject myself to enormous. It would take Naga few seconds to respond to Sumia's plea, so I had time to frame the spell in my head, so that I could properly direct my magic.

A moment later, I could feel the divine energy building up in Sumia. Taking a steadying breath, I got to work pulling the magic welling up in the other woman into myself. This wasn't as complex a process, just a tiring one. Already my veins started to burn, as the rejection of the very idea of my power and Nag's mixing began.

As I gathered the Divine magic into my palms, preparing to will it into a working form. Healing magic was about willpower and intent, as opposed to combat magic, which relied simply on power, and foci.

"Ex Solie: Medens." I exhaled, before throwing back my head, and screaming at long last. The more Divine magic that I pulled from the praying Sumia, the more it hurt, the essence of the Divine Dragon rebelling at being exposed to its polar opposite.

I could have sworn my lungs were on fire, as I continued to push magic. From the corner of my eyes, I could, somehow see that the woman was healing. The arrow wound was gone, no blood leaking from it. Some of the other gashes in her side had vanished as well.

The last gash sealed over, and I released my magic.

For a moment, I started at the unconscious woman, before blackness started to encroach on my vision. I wobbled to the side, before collapsing in a heap over the woman whose life I had just saved.

* * *

AN: Welp, in honor of NaNoWriMo, and Halloween, here are two hastily edited chapters. That I totally didn't rush edit because writing later parts of this thing are emotionally exhausting, and I wanted to feel productive... not at all...

Reviews aren't required but always appreciated, as is any other feedback or ideas you might have!


	12. Chapter Eleven: New Paths

**A/N: So….this thing was a pain to edit. If anyone hasn't figured out by now, this is the point where I start to hit the full stride of AU territory, and well, everyone is uncooperative in this chapter. So…here it is? More comments on that at the end**

 **Chapter Eleven: New Paths**

 **Lady of Naga: Lucina**

I watched from a distance as Robin collapsed to the side, having healed Cordelia's previously life threatening injuries. I winced, knowing that if Severa saw her mother in such a state, the temperamental girl would have gone ballistic. I watched my mother's eyes widen as I stepped from behind a boulder. Sneaking after the Shepherds in this terrain was difficult, and I was lost her to reveal myself, but I couldn't bear seeing Mother so upset.

"Your friend is quite the healer." I said, my voice soft, marveling at the work Robin had done. My knowledge of healing magic was limited, but I knew that mending wounds without a stave required substantial effort.

"Marth?" Mother frowned, as if trying to figure something out. I bowed, just a bit.

"Yes." I agreed, moving to kneel beside the unconscious women. After taking a moment to check and see if they had a pulse, I allowed my racing heartbeat to slow, just a bit. Both were alive, just unconscious. From the corner of my eye Mother shook her head.

"What…what are you doing here?" She asked. I supposed that made sense. Robin had just defeated me soundly in Ferox. Sighing, I rocked back to my heels.

"I'm looking for my friends." I replied honestly. Well, mostly honestly. "Which apparently has lead me to many run ins with you." Mother's expression was sceptical, she didn't seem to believe me, which stung, for reasons that I couldn't identify. No matter, I was telling the truth. "These two need medical attention." I pointed out, keeping my voice level." While your friend here tapping into Naga's magic directly has done a good job, an actual healer might be best as well." Mother nodded.

"Your right." She paused, and sighed. "I can't lead a Pegasus while flying though." She pointed out. I waved a hand.

"I can carry one of them, and you can put the other on a Pegasus and lead them on the ground." I pointed out. Mother nodded.

"I suppose." Her lips quirked. "Pegasi don't like it though." I inclined my head, recalling Cynthia often saying something similar on the few occasions when she was unable to fly for whatever reason.

"I know." My reply was short. Kneeling, I lifted the unconscious Robin, wincing as her armor dug into my own. Mother meanwhile lifted the unconscious Cordelia, setting her back upon her wounded Pegasus. Taking the reins of both animals, I gestured for her to lead the way as best I could while carrying a woman almost my own height.

"So, Marth…" I got the impression Mother way trying to take her mind off what had happened to Cordelia, and the fact that Robin was unconscious. "You said you are looking for friends?"

Although she could not see, I nodded. "Yes. We were separated some time ago, without ever defining a meeting place." Mother winced from in front of me. "I'm hoping that rumors will lead me to them, as they are….eccentric." I had to consider the appropriate words to describe some of the other Shepherds children. Eccentric wasn't even really the best word, however it was the one that first sprang to mind and would engender the least questions.

"Ah." Mother frowned. "What sort of eccentric?" She asked. "I can ask some of the other Shepherds if they have heard anything." I couldn't help but smile. That offer was so like Mother I supposed. I was quite certain the Shepherds would not have heard a thing more than I had, given that, in truth, quite by accident out paths were crossing repeatedly, I knew accepting would be best.

"I would appreciate that." I replied. Mother nodded, and I swore I saw half a smile flit across her face. For a moment, I had to remind myself that this woman wasn't my mother, and that her mindset was very different. In the future it was rare to see Mother as anything besides self-confident, assured, and capable. However, on one of the few occasions I had convinced her to tell me about the past, she had admitted that becoming who she was had been a long process, often forced by necessity.

"Sumia!" Father's voice shattered my thoughts, and I snapped to focus on the man who was sprinting towards Mother and I. The Lady of Gri followed him, moving at a more sedate pace, although I could see the urgency in her movements. Aunt Lissa was there as well, her staff gripped tight.

"What happened?" My Aunt asked, eyes flitting between Mother, Robin, the Pegasi, the sleeping Cordelia, and myself.

"I don't know." Mother shook her head. "Robin healed Cordelia's injuries and passed out." Mother paused. "Marth was passing by, and heard Robin screaming."

"Screaming?" Father shook his head. "Why was Robin screaming?"

"Divine magic." Gri replied, her voice low. "Robin is a Fell mage, and Divine magic doesn't play nice with us." She paused, giving the unconscious Robin a long look. "I would guess, Cordelia you said her name was, had injuries that had to be healed at once." Gri sighed, running a hand through her hair. "Divine magic is the best way to do that, but as a Fell mage, and having used a great deal of magic already, Robin passed out from a combination of pain and exhaustion."

"Correct." I nodded. "I am curious; I hadn't known Fell mages existed outside the Grimeal?" Despite knowing the answer, I felt it was an appropriate question to ask. Even if we assumed I trusted the Lady of Grima, I couldn't let on that I knew her. Lissa waved her staff.

"Questions can wait, they need to be healed, now." She pointed out. "Follow me." I nodded, hoping the walk to a medical tent was short. Robin was heavy.

Lucky for me, only a minute later, I was able to divest myself of Robin, and I helped Mother carry Cordelia into the tent was well. The moment I stepped outside, I found myself confronted by Father.

He was calm, collected, but had a determined fire burning in his eyes. Gri stood behind him, her eyes flashing with warning. "Prince Chrom." I gave a slight bow of my head, my stomach twisting from calling father his title, instead of Father.

"Marth." He considered. "Rather fortunate you were passing through, no?" It was phrased as a question, but I knew the passive aggressive remark for what it was. Perhaps he was more perceptive than I had been told.

"Since Robin has apparently seen fit to exhaust herself it apparently falls to me to chide you." Gri growled. "Lay off Chrom. Sumia already told you that Marth said he was just passing by, looking for someone."

Father however seemed less than impressed by this. "Be that as it may."

"Lay off." Gri snapped, her exasperation bleeding through. "Being paranoid is Fredrick's job Chrom!" That seemed to shake Father a little.

"I know." He sighed. "It's just that…" Gri's lips quirked in amusement. "With Robin unconscious, she's one of the few people that can match anyone who meet if they mean us ill and…."

I giggled. Father had figured out his feelings for Mother it seemed. The man himself tried for a glare.

"I assure you Prince Chrom," I replied, my tone neutral, but amenable, "I mean no ill will towards Ylisse, least of all your intended."

Father spluttered uncontrollably for a moment. "She isn't….I'm not!" He bit out. Gri roared with laughter.

"Seems that Marth here has your number Chrom!" She jibed. "I'll make sure Lissa gets Robin awake soon…ehehehh…" There was something of a menacing glee to that laugh, I thought. Chrom groaned.

"Gods damnit! I'm not getting married!" he hissed, keeping his voice low. I couldn't resist joining in.

"Oh? You seem awfully defensive." Gri laughed ever harder. Chrom glared at her.

"I am in need of a sparring partner." He pointed out. Gri only smirked more.

"You mean someone to knock your ego down a few notches?" I could tell that last bit of banter was more forced that before, but Father seemed to miss it.

"I admit, I was almost hoping to fight you in Ferox." I offered, seeing now what Father had been after. He smirked.

"I'll take that offer." He replied. Gri shot me a warning look. I returned it with a glare. I had to admit, I wanted to see Father fight, as despite crossing paths several times now, I had yet to see him fight a single opponent of any given skill. I had fought Robin, and I knew the level at which Gri would fight when the Lady of Grima stopped hiding.

Father, however, was an unknown quantity to me. He had died, supposedly at Grima's hand long before I was old enough for too many memories of him, so I had no clue what to expect. Gri fought like Morgan always had, and Robin fought the same way, although Robin fell into a middle ground between the girl who, in some ways, had become my second, even younger, sister, and Gri, the unstoppable Lady of Grima.

Following Father to the edge of the camp, where a number of the Shepherds had gathered, practicing. Stopping, Father turned to face me. His hand settled over his sword, while Gri moved a short distance away. I placed my hand over my own Falchion.

"Whenever you are ready." I told him, drawing my weapon, and taking a high guard. Father's eyes glittered with excitement. Over his shoulder Gri gave me a pointed look, almost a warning.

Father sprang forwards, the setting sun illuminating the edge of his sword. I parried, turning the momentum of his strike to the side, and jumping back. Father frowned, attacking again with a more conservative attack, towards my knees. I parried, turning his attack again, and striking for his shoulder.

About that moment, the reality that we were sparing using live steel sunk in. My thoughts were dragged to reality once more, as I was forced to parry a series of spinning strikes from Father. I hid a smile. Ylissean sword fighting was never accused of being overly practical;the fact that it was utilizes by people who used a semi-sentient sword and with the blessing of a goddess not notwithstanding.

Spinning under a blow from Father, I parried an attack behind my shoulders, before twisting back around, bringing a two handed strike towards his collar bone. Father blocked the blow head on, eyes narrowing.

He pushed off at the same moment I did, as we both attacked. Sparks flew as Falchion met Falchion in a spinning whirl of steel. Father was losing ground, in a slow as steady fashion, however.

I wasn't surprised, in truth. I had lived far more war than he, my Falchion almost sang in in my hand. The power rushing from the blade into my veins pushed, wanting to push me harder, as I ducked under a blow from Father, and snapping the blade to his throat.

"That makes you quite dead Chrom." Gri seemed only a bit amused. Father, by contrast was bemused.

"Quite." He stepped back, lowering his weapon. "Robin wasn't kidding when she said you were holding back." I shrugged.

"Perhaps." I shrugged. Father and Gri bother rolled their eyes.

"Perhaps." Gri shook her head. "You handed Chrom his ass." The amusement behind her words was massive. She gave Father and arch look. "Robin told you this would happen." Father gave the woman a glare that tried to be angry, and failed.

"You tell her…" His threat seemed to fall flat, and the smirk took the bite out. He turned to face me. "Where did you learn to fight like that?" I paused, taking a moment to assemble a lie.

"From my parents." I replied at last, hoping that Father considered the idea of a bastard Ylissean prince valid enough to not press questions.

"Oh?" He seemed intrigued. "Would it be possible for me to meet them? They have taught you extremely well."

I fought down a blush at receiving Father's praise. Even with my mask, I knew the change in color of my checks would be obvious. Again, I scrambled for a lie.

"They passed several years ago." I replied. Father blinked, bowing his head a bit.

"I am sorry." And I knew he was. My insides twisted as I realized that, in an obtuse way, he was apologizing for the fact he had died. Died, none the less, at the hands of the woman standing behind him. Not that he did anything.

"It isn't your fault." I put a small amount of emphasis on the pronoun, glaring at Gri as I did so." The Lady of Grima, to her credit did not flinch, but I saw the flash of pain behind her eyes.

"Still, I can't imagine bringing up such memories leaves a good taste in one's mouth." I gave a small nod. Father seemed to brace himself before going on. "Anyway, I was wondering if you'd be willing to join us? We could use someone of your skill."

For a moment, I was convinced I should refuse. I needed to find the others, and at once. Even if I trusted Gri, I wanted as much of a head start on Grima as I could get. Then again, the attempt on Emmeryn's life was coming up.

"At least for a while." I agreed. Father's eyes gleamed, and he smiled. Gri even wore what passed for a smirk.

"Thank you. It's good to have you along." Father sheathed his own Falchion, and I sheathed my own sword as well. I gave him a small bow. Gri shrugged.

"Well, Robin normally wants to spar with everyone who joins up, and I'd say I should fill in for her," A wicked light danced in the Lady of Grima's eyes, "But I'd say that is not necessary, no?"

"No, I don't think it is." I agreed. Father gave a searching look between us, before shrugging.

"Well, I'm off to make sure Sumia gets some sleep, since I imagine she hasn't left the medical tent…" He shook his head. Gri smirked.

"Don't do anything the rest of us wouldn't." She taunted without heat. Father turned bright red, and stalked off.

I watched him go for a long moment, before letting out an explosive sigh. Gri simple stood, not moving. The others were mostly filtering from the grounds, leaving us alone. Again.

"I can't decide whether to hate your or not." I mumbled, fighting with tears. Gri arched an eyebrow, her lips thinning a marginal amount. "This whole entire thing is your fault." I spat at the other woman. She didn't move, eyes boring into mine. "If _you,_ " I jabbed a finger, as if the motion would somehow better convey my rage, "Hadn't been possessed by a fucking _god,_ I wouldn't be here. I wouldn't' have to listen to my FATHER apologize for dying, while the woman who fucking killed him is standing right here!"

Gri didn't answer, or seem to visibly respond at all. Her eyes bored into mine, as if searching for something. I have no idea if she found it or not, as I plowed onwards.

"What do you think you can even do coming back?" I spat, feeling all my frustrations boil over in that moment. "You fucked up once, got possessed, what makes you think now will be different?" I didn't get a change to finish.

The air almost seemed to bend around Gri. I took a step back, preparing to defend myself, but before I could react, she was in front of me. Cold steel pressed against my throat. Stoney grey eyes bored into mine, and I quailed, unable to move.

"I will let you live, Lady of Naga," Gri hissed, the venom in her words obvious, "For the simple reason that you are an ignorant child who knows not of which she speaks." The motion of her lips was small, almost impossible as she spoke. "Go, cry about having to lie to your father _Lucina_." Unlike the last time Gri had said my name, the syllables did not roll from her tongue. Instead, I felt a chill run across me, a sinking feeling following close behind. "And speak to me again when you have six hundred _years_ of guilt, and pain upon your shoulders. When you have the knowledge of how hell comes to be, and were forced to be the unwitting harbinger of destruction, then not be allowed to die! Speak to me again, Lady of Naga, when you have slit the throats of the only people who could save the world because it was more merciful, and then had to live with the knowledge that you had no choice but to doom the entire fucking human race!" The cold steel left my neck. Gale force winds howled around the two of us, as the Lady of Grima, in her full, and terrible rage, stood only inches away from me, magic howling. "Speak to me again, Lucina, Daughter of Chrom, Lady of Naga, when you have been trapped in your own mind, forced to watch your flesh and blood used to commit acts so heinous no mortal can imagine, and then, when you final have an out, a way to fucking die, the other person fucking screws it up!" The rage in her own eyes danced at that moment.

Steel eyes pierced my soul, and I got the sinking feeling of examination, one that I failed. A sneer flitted across Gri's face.

The crack of thunder sent me flying. When my vision had cleared, I realized that Gri was gone.

"That was all her." I realized, sinking to me knees. "She didn't channel Grima's power at all." Perhaps, I thought, I had made a mistake. No, I knew I had. That realization, however, came far too late, for she was gone. Gone, perhaps forever.

Tears streamed down my face, as I knelt in that clearing, the weight of the world upon my shoulders.

 **A/N: This took so long to come out, partly because of college bs, and partly because the last…thousand or so words just were a pain. I think I'm my own worst enemy, having gotten so far ahead of the story that coming back to these earlier chapters with more insight into the characters it all feels strange to me.**

 **As always, reviews, comments, concerns, questions, etc. are welcome!**


	13. Chapter Twelve: Written

**Chapter Twelve: Rewritten**

 **Lady of Grima: Gri**

Hours had passed since I left Lucina on the sparing fields, seconds away from killing her. That entire confrontation had left a bad taste in my mouth…losing control left a bad taste in my mouth. And, at the end of the day that is what I had done. I had lost control of myself, with results that spoke for themselves. For the first time in decades, I bemoaned the lack of a tree to punch…something to punch.

Still, there was no value in dwelling on what I had done at this point. Gaining Lucina as an allay would still remain the plan, but if I could not do so, then sobeit. There was a way, and I would find it, to end this stupid fight.

 _Just like you told yourself you have control, and look where that you._ The traitorous whisper in the back of my head jibed. _Screaming at the only person who can possibly help you, and threatening to kill her._

The camp had at last fallen into silence, with all but those unlucky enough to draw the last watch having retired to sleep. Those few were easy enough to avoid, thanks to poor lighting, and the deep color of my cloak.

Slipping past the guards, I approached the medical tent. The only area of the camp that had decent lighting this time of night, I abandoned my pretense of sneaking, and stepped confidently into the light, not that anyone could see me.

Crossing the distance to the tent I hoped that Lissa had long since gone to sleep, and Grima forbid that Maribelle was the one who was attending to the wounded overnight. From inside the tent, the dull scratching that indicated writing could be heard.

Biting down a curse, I pushed the flap aside, sending a quick prayer to Naga that it was Lissa.

It was readily apparent that I had prayed to the wrong god, as Maribelle was the one sitting behind a small desk, writing away. At the sound of my entrance her head snapped up mouth opening.

"What are you doing here?" The demand was harsh, and, I supposed, not undeserved. It was well past the halfway point of the night, and few would even consider being awake at these hours voluntarily.

"Seeing how they are doing." I replied, gesturing to the sleeping Cordelia and Robin. Maribelle continued to glare at me.

"They are fine as you can see." She pointed out. "It isn't as though there is anything you can do for them." I snorted.

Grima Preserve, I had forgotten how abrasive this woman could be. Lissa had always insisted that Maribelle just warmed up to people slowly, so perhaps we never associated much in the future, thus leading to her never becoming comfortable around me, but still.

"To the contrary." I replied, reaching up to unclip my cloak. The clasp made a faint snap as it opened. "I have little skill in the use of staves, but I have more than passable skills in channeling the same energy they do, in its raw form." I shrugged, moving to sit upon the stool next to Robin. "A more imprecise art than yours or Lissa's, but more powerful."

I didn't see a need to mention that the only reason I could do so was because I had a Falchion, and thus could borrow the magical power straight from the sword, without having to pray to Naga first. As Robin had showed, we Fell mages should never entreat the Divine Dragon, for her wrath was both swift, and uncompromising. Although, given the horrors my ilk tended to commit, I could sympathize readily enough.

"I see." I could feel the glare on the back of my head, just daring me to try something funny, as I tapped the Falchion, and mumbled a few words to incant a Divine spell that served to show where someone was injured.

My left hand glowed bright white as the spell took hold. Holding my hand a short distance above Robin's torso, I moved it about, watching for changes in the color of the glow. Red indicated bleeding, green was infection, and yellow was something else I didn't remember. There were supposedly other colors, but my control was either not precise enough, or I had never encountered those kinds of injuries.

"What are you doing?" The noblewoman snapped. I didn't bother to look in her direction, needing all the focus I could to maintain the spell.

"Checking for bleeding or infection." I snapped back. "The one major benefit to calling power this way is that one can form spells directly, giving a greater range of effects than basic staves might."

"Oh." Maribelle paused, as if weighing her words. I could tell that my actual answer had surprised her, as she had not expected me to have a reason for my actions.

"Oh indeed." My lips quirked in a pale excuse for amusement. "I have a few talents aside from throwing lightening and swordplay." Not many. My skills were almost exclusively focused on the art fo ending lives, and it was only in the recent years that I started learning the art of putting back together the people I ripped to bits.

"Oh!" Maribelle repeated, this time I spared her a glance, having verified that Robin was in fact unharmed. "You were the one who assisted us in battle." Her words were not a question. I inclined my head.

"Quite so." I sighed. "Such slaughter is not something I relish." To my immense surprise, Maribelle snorted.

"Twas truly barbaric." She allowed. "However, those swine deserved worse." She paused. "I confess, you saved my life. Thank you." To my immense surprise, she bowed to me.

"No thanks is needed." I waved a hand. I didn't want thanks. My actions were driven by everything besides a desire to thanks. Hell, what I did couldn't even really be defined as selfless. Maribelle shook her head.

"I would be dead, or worse, were it not for your swift action." She pointed out. I snorted.

"Chrom and Lissa would have torn Plegia apart." I replied. "Lissa looking for you, and Chrom to help his little sister." I sighed. "The entire Shepherds would have." Glancing down at Robin I felt compelled to add, "If you wish to thank anyone, Maribelle, thank Robin. She is the one who planned the whole thing out." And lead the Shepherds up that hill to save all our asses, I added in my head. Despite my prodigious skill, hours of magical casting the prior days, and endless sword fighting wore me down. Grima's power did not unmake the human part of me.

"I intend to come dawn." Was the immediate reply. "Just as I am thanking you now." Again, I waved a hand. Being thanked always left a bad taste in my mouth.

"I didn't save your life for thanks." I pointed out. The glare I received would have melted less women.

"I'm aware of that." Her reply was haughty. "None the less-" I cut her off, before out argument became circular.

"IF you wish to thank me, Maribelle, go get some sleep." I suggested, in as gentle a manner as I could. "I can look after these two, and I'll make sure Cordelia isn't bleeding anywhere inside that your staves couldn't catch." I sighed. "I know better than most how draining battle and adrenaline are, and I suspect this was your first time on a battle. Sleeping will do you good." I paused, before throwing down what amounted to a trump card. "It will reassure Lissa you are okay." That stifled any protest from the woman, who I knew from the future, was almost fanatically devoted to Chrom's sister. I supposed it made sense.

"I will do that." Gathering her materials, Maribelle stood, striding toward the door of the tent. "Good night, Mi'Lady." She bowed again, leaving before I could object to the title she had given me. I was not a noblewoman! …. No. I was not. I refused.

"Cheeky noblewoman." I groused, refocusing on my magic. Cordelia was the one I was most worried about. The pristine skin that Robin had formed over her wounds appeared to cover a remarkable healing job, which Lissa and Maribelle had confirmed. Both of them had been baffled by Robin's condition. Only after I had assured them that Robin's comatose state made sense did they relax, not before, however, extracting a promise for a through explanation in the morn.

A light breeze washed through the tent flap, making me shiver, just a bit. I considered using Fell magic to warm myself up, even though it wasn't strictly needed. However, the balance of Fell and Divine magic needed for the diagnostic spell would leave me with a splitting headache for the next century or so, and I got up, retrieving my cloak from a chair. Before I sat down however, there was a rustle of cloth. I turned, keeping my movements slow, so as not to startle. Both women were trained warriors, and would react badly to sudden motion. Although, in their injured and exhausted state, I stood a reasonable chance of avoiding whatever they threw my way, the reality of the situation was that getting attacked was not helpful for anyone involved.

Cordelia was the one who was stirring, although her eyes remained closed. Her breathing had shifted indicating wakefulness.

"How are you feeling?" I spoke in a low voice, without particular reason. Robin would be comatose at least until noon tomorrow, I expected. The first time I tried something like what she had done, it had put me out for close to a two full days, and I had far more experience filtering my magic into regular magic, and Fell magic than she did. However, Robin showed far more magical potential and skill than I did at a comparable age, so I was unable to estimate well.

Cordelia's eyes opened slowly, taking in her surroundings. I saw a flash of panic in build as her eyes landed on me. She scrambled back in the bed, terror abounding.

"Stay away from me Grimeal!" She spat. I blinked, not having ever expected that reaction, until I remembered that my cloak was the same style as worn by the High Priests of Grima. In the future, I had been the only one allowed the honor of wearing such a cloak, and even hundreds of years later, none dared violate that right. Perhaps it was better put, I hunted down anyone who put one of these on. It was my legacy of blood and terror, and no one was going to co-opt that.

"I am not a member of the Grimeal." I replied, allowing my cloak to fall away, leaving my armor to gleam in the lantern light. Cordelia glared.

"How do you have one of their cloaks then?" She spat, eyes flitting around for a weapon.

"If it makes you feel better." I unclipped my regular sword from my belt, leaving only the Falchion, and tossed it onto the bed. The metal thumped against the mattress, and the Pegasus Knight reached forwards, snapped the weapon back to her, and drawing it. Her eyes remained locked to mine, and she drew the sword, setting the naked steel across her lap. "As for how I have a Grimeal cloak, that is a long story, but the short version is that I was raised by them, and fled at a young age." I gave her the same story I did the other Shepherds. Cordelia didn't seem as convinced however. "Besides, do you realize believe Chrom and the others would be fooled if I was a Grimeal?"

"Chrom is here?" I couldn't decide the emotion in Cordelia's voice. Desire, fear, something else perhaps, I thought. "I thought I saw Sumia as I was…" She trailed off, unable to say crashing.

"Yes, Chrom is here." I nodded. "Your Pegasus landed about half a mile outside the camp here. Luckily for you, Sumia and Robin were there."

"Robin? And what do you mean luckily?" She snapped. I closed my eyes. This wasn't going to be a good time, for me or her. I had hoped to not be the one to make this explanation, given that I lacked anything that might be described as a bedside manner.

"Robin is the woman sleeping there." I replied, gesturing. "She healed your injuries."

"Gods…" And in that moment, I knew the memories had hit Cordelia full on. Without knowledge of what had happened to injure her as Sumia described, I couldn't say for sure what she was remembering, but there was no doubt that it was horrible. "Did anyone else make it back?" She asked, her voice broken.

For a wild moment, I almost lied. Then, I realized how stupid, and ultimately ineffectual lying would be. "No, no one else did." I shook my head. "Why?" Trying to pry the happenings from the woman wasn't my intent, and the question was truly innocuous, although I knew it might seem otherwise.

She glared at me, as if still trying to decide that I wasn't Grimeal. "If you would rather talk to Chrom or one of the others, I can get them." I offered. Her eyes widened as I made to leave.

"No! Don't!" The panic in her words made me frown. "I….you aren't Grimeal are you?" I shook my head.

"No." I replied moving back into the tent. "My cloak is, in truth, something I forget is associated with them." My lips quirked. "You are the first in some time to have made the connection." Given that my story was that of a wandering warrior, it would check out well enough, if she questioned.

Her eyes were downcast. "They attacked us. The Grimeal." I froze. In Grima's name. The irony of that last curse wasn't lost, even as I regained control of my expression. "They weren't trying to kill us either…not all of them." In Grima's Name indeed. That was becoming my mantra. "One of them had a cloak like yours…he ordered them to take some of us alive, that our screams would nourish Lord Grima."

"Validar." I hissed. Only my father would do that. I knew it for sure. Those were his words, especially in the future. At least, until I had ripped his heart from his chest.

"What?" Cordelia's tear streaked eyes bored into mine. I closed my eyes.

"Finish your tale." I advised her gently. "Then I will tell you." She gulped, before going on.

"The others…they told me to run. To get back to the Exalt, and warn her…." The tears still flowed, but I had to admire the lack of waver in the woman's voice. "They fought to protect me as I fled but…"

I waited as she composed herself.

"The Grimeal who wore a cloak like that," She pointed at my garment, "His magic…it…"

In Grima's Name. I dropped back into a chair, the world feeling very heavy all of the sudden. Validar has turned Fell magic against' Cordelia.

"Do you remember the words?" I asked her, leaning forwards. "Fell magic is a horrible thing, and I can better heal the wounds it leaves if I know what he cast."

She nodded, her eyes closed. "Ex Astris: Sicuril Daemo." She repeated. My magic roiled, and swatted it down, slumping into myself perhaps even further.

"In Grima's Name." I hissed aloud, for the third time. At this rate, I should just invest in a recording crystal to save myself the effort. "Of all the depravity." That spell was one that I had only cast in anger once, and having seen the result never again. Grima loved it. The exact effects were not documented well, so I could not say exactly what Cordelia had experienced, only that it was heinous, painful and long last in scars.

"It…there was darkness…and their voices….and…a-a-and…." I held up my hand.

"You don't need to continue." I whispered, racking my brain for what to do. That spell was as close to forbidden as Fell magic got. "That bastard will pay." I promised myself aloud.

"The one who cast the spell?" She asked. I nodded.

"Yes. That spell is one designed for torture…nothing else." I closed my eyes, forging ahead. "I've only cast it once myself, and vowed to never do so again, after seeing the results." My lips curled in distaste. "I know of only three pieces of Fell magic that are considered 'forbidden' and that is one of them.

"Gods…." Cordelia's eyes closed, and I could almost feel the revulsion rolling off her in waves.

"I applaud your mental strength, to shatter such a spell after the ordeal that led up to it." I told her. From the future, I remember that Cordelia hated to be called a genius, or anything of that nature. As I understood it brought up bad memories.

"What do you mean?" her eyes were narrow. I knew treading carefully was best.

"That particular spell was designed to transport its target to their own personal hell." I replied. "The intent of the caster can vary the effects slightly but at the end of the day that is the result. The only known escape is either release of the spell, or for the target to overwhelm the will of the caster." My lips curled in morbid delight. "The mage you describe is not an insignificant man. Then again, you seem quite an extraordinary woman."

"I….I…"There was a pause. "Yes I am." I got the sense the response was mostly rote, not with any sort of feeling. She wince, placing a hand to her side. I recalled Sumia saying she'd had an arrow wound. The arrow from which Robin had apparently burned away. Burned away. For a moment I stopped to honestly consider what the hell Robin had done.

"Er…do you have any healing balm?" She asked, frowning. I chuckled.

"There is some, yes, but I doubt it will do that wound much good." I gave Robin a light glare. "Robin made a masterful job of healing you, which saved your life. However, I think some of the deeper injuries are not done healing, despite the skin being unblemished." I paused to shrug. "If you'll allow me, I can check, and heal the wounds."

"How?" She demanded. "I am no healer, but I am quite certain one needs a stave to mend wounds with magic." She shot back. I snorted. Of course. As usual, education failed to really explain the nuance of what was happening.

"Don't tell anyone I said this," I replied, "But that is a load of garbage. Anyone with magical talent can cast Divine Magic, which is all that healing staves use, just with a focus. As long as you can pray to Naga, and Naga accepts your prayers, a normal mage can heal."

"But a Fell mage?" She shot back. I winced. Observant. Shit.

"That makes it a bit more precarious." I admitted. "How did you know?" She shrugged.

"Easy. You mentioned having cast that spell, and said you were raised by Grimeal." I grunted. Damnit. Of course. Sloppy. Settling into the chair, I reached into the Falchion.

The blade hummed against my side, willingly pushing power into my palm, which I held over Cordelia's side.

The glow over my hand flickered white, then at once changed rapidly to red, then blue, then orange, then red again.

"What does that mean?" She asked, at the same time I thought it.

"Well…" I considered. "Red means bleeding. I've heard tell that orange means some kind of burn, but I have never seen the color myself with that spell, so I don't know for certain. Blue, I haven't the foggiest idea." I paused, reaching into myself. I needed a stronger healing spell. Divine magic pulsed against my leg, the Falchion lending me it's will for the first time. "Ex Solei: Sarcio!" I whispered.

Cordelia groaned, slumping back as the spell ran its course, knitting flesh back together. As I felt the energy drain vanish, I flicked my wrist, cancelling the spell. Cordelia's eyes were closed, and I swore I saw tears in her eyes.

Gears in my head starting turning as she glared at me.

"The hell was that?" She demanded. "I'd rather get shot again than that." Rocking back on my heels, I sighed.

That wasn't good. How the fuck did Cordelia of all people have Fell magic in her? Could it be residue from that spell Validar had hit her with? The logic didn't hold up, as I could not recall a single instance of similar occurrences in the future.

"That," I replied, "Was not supposed to happen." Sitting back in the stool, I frowned. "The only reason that having Divine magic cast on you that way inflicts pain is if one has that power to cast Fell magic."

"But-" I inclined my head, silencing her objection.

"I know." My lips quirked. "The spell worked correctly, and should have felt like submerging the relevant area of the body in warm water, not, I'm guessing, like a white hot knife is getting shoved into your intestines."

Cordelia nodded, collapsing into the pillows. "That description is quite accurate." She sighed. "Gods…"

Before our conversation could continue, the tent flap rustled, and Emmeryn ducked into the room.

"Lady Exalt." I inclined my head, a bit deeper than I might have greeting anyone else.

"Your Highness!" Cordelia scrambled to try and bow, until Emmeryn gestured for to stay put.

"Please, do not tire yourself on my account Cordelia." Emmeryn murmured. "I confess, I did not expect you to be awake at this hour." She gave me a slight bow. "Nor did I expect to find you here Gri."

I inclined my head just a bit. "I have a few talents beyond combat My Lady." I replied. Emmeryn tilted her head, amusement flashing behind her eyes. In the other time, I had met the Exalt only twice, and both times, she gave me that same amused look. Almost as though she found something about me humorous.

"So my brother informs me." There was a pause, as the Exalt looked between us. "I can leave, if you are in the middle of something of importance." She offered. Cordelia shook her head.

"Your fine my lady." She replied. "Gri, was it?" She flicked a glance in my direction, and I was somewhat ashamed of the fact I never told her my name, "Was just making sure Robin healed my side correctly."

"Ah." Emmeryn gave a soft sigh, and a questioning look in my direction.

"Robin, given her experience in calling forth the powers of Naga did fantastically." I allowed. "A bit extra work required, but nothing complex."

"That is good." Emmeryn smiled a bit, before a weight seemed to settle on her shoulders. "Did anyone else escape with you?" I already knew the answer. Validar wouldn't have let anyone live. The idea that even one got away from him was surprising.

"N-No." Cordelia bowed her head. "They gave their lives so I could escape." I gave a low hiss through my teeth. Shit. Validar wasn't the sort to go easy those who were left behind.

The weight of the world fell upon the Exalt. "I…I am….sorry." Emmeryn sighed. "I had thought Gangrel would be willing to parley even a little bit." She shook her head. "I will let you rest."

Before either of us could say another word, she had already left the tent.

"Why did your healing spell hurt so much?" Cordelia asked me, her eyes letting on that she wanted to put the concept of Emmeryn's question aside.

"I'm not completely certain." I replied. "There are two possible answers. One is that you have a natural talent for Fell magic." The other is that, in overwhelming the spell Validar placed upon you, somehow, you managed to gain the ability to cast. I suppose it's also possible that you just absorbed some, and it's taking a while to burn off." I shrugged. "The last one is so unlikely that I only mention in from the purely academic sense."

"Oh." She frowned. "How do we find out the answer?" I met her eyes. "There are a couple different methods. First, is simply seeing how you react to exposure to Fell magic, which I suspect you aren't too keen on." She nodded. "The fastest after that is to teach you magic." I shrugged. "The only other good way involves far more time than is safe."

"Safe?" She frowned. I nodded.

"If you truly have unlocked the ability to use Fell magic, in whatever form, the longer you go untrained, the more chance of Grima trying to possess you."

"Possess me?" Fear laced her words.

"Don't advise it." I quipped, before becoming a bit more serious. "Don't worry about it. Even if he tries, he'll have to go through me, and I suspect Robin as well."

"Then I'll have to master magic won't I?" She pointed out. I shrugged.

"Learn, yes. Master that is your choice." I saw a fire light in her eyes. "You need sleep though." I advised. "Healing as Robin and I do takes as much out of you as it does us."

She glared at me. "I'm not going to be weak."

I shook my head. "You aren't weak. Far from it." I shot back. "But you will hurt yourself trying to cast magic in your current state." I paused, before shrugging. "And I'm in not state to marshal the defensive spells to give you a good target to cast at." I added as an afterthought. That, I suspected, was partly the reason that Robin had passed out.

"Alright." Cordelia paused. "We can start when the sun comes up?" She offered. I shrugged once more.

"Sure." With that, the woman collapsed back into the bed, eyes closing.

I dropped into a chair, closing my own eyes, drifting into a fitful sleep.

* * *

 **A/N: So….this chapter annoys me. I'm going to just post it, and then go back and edit it maybe later, but probably not. So…yay!?**

 **Right. Onto more important things. In the past two weeks, I binged the entirety of RWBY for reasons that will forever escape me. That season three finale though…. So, obviously, I must write fanfiction for it. Namely, the one I just posted. So…in the interests of that, I'm going to shoot myself in the ass, and actually promise a schedule. Namely, updates! Every Wednesday, I'm going to do my best to update this story, since I've got something like 215k words written for it, so all I need to do is edit the damn things. With that in mind, updates shall hopefully be more well, frequent. RWBY should be updated every Friday, for those who care, or want to ignore the notifications. On a related note, Aura of Twilight (who I've since realized might not go by that name on this site, but I'm to lazy to check, and that's what I know her as everywhere else), had permission to yell at me about updates.**

 **Now, all of that aside, reviews, questions, comments, questions are always appreciated. They help me make this thing a better story for all of you, and fill authors with warm fuzzies.**


	14. Chapter Thirteen: Reconciliations

**Chapter Thirteen: Reconciliations**

 **Lady of Naga: Lucina**

The morning came, and I rose with the sun, shaking my head; wishing I had never fallen asleep. My dreams had been of the future, replaying every fight I'd ever had with Grima. Every slash, every block, every motion, replayed in slow motion.

The Mila tree had been the focus of my dreams in the end.

Only the second time I had crossed blades with the Fell Dragon, I had been outclassed in ways that even now, I barely understood. Fighting with a desperate abandon to even survive, Grima had toyed with me. His strikes were lazy, and when he struck with force I always found myself thrown back, reeling from the force of his blows.

Then, something had changed. At that moment I missed the shift in the tone of the battle, however looking back, it was obvious. Grima's movements had become erratic, almost jerky, as though something was holding him back. A desperate fire danced behind his eyes, almost as if he felt the tide of battle shifting. Or, as I now suspected, as though his body wasn't obeying the commands he gave it.

The opening. I could still remember dancing under a powerful two handed strike from Grima, the Falchion almost singing with power in my own palm as I brought the blade up to strike the Fell Dragon, or at least his puppet across the neck.

The holy blade of Naga had cut flesh without pause.

And then I had almost died.

Gri still bore the scar from that blow, I knew, from that first encounter just after my arrival, the image of the Lady of Grima standing before us at the Outrealm Gate still etched into my eyes.

In almost removing Grima's head, I had sparked an instinctive reaction from either him or Gri, which had unleashed a blast of magic, and teleported the monster away. I had found myself standing in a field of his reanimated monsters, keeping my feet by will alone, bleeding from injuries I didn't know I had.

 _Speak to me again when you finally have an out, a way to fucking die, the other person fucking screws it up._ Those had been her words.

"She…." I closed my eyes. No matter the avenue I tried to address the problem from, I came back to the same point. Grima and Gri were distinct people, despite one deriving her name from the other. And I had blamed her.

Not for the first time I wished that I had found my friends again. For all their insanity, we balanced each other out, in handling these problems. Nah and I tended to be far too serious, which was juxtaposed against my own sister, Owain, and to a lesser extent Inigo. Brady and Yarne's reticence would always stand opposed to Kjelle and Severa's hotheadedness, and on and on. The various personalities we presented molded into a somehow effective group. Somehow.

Throwing aside such thoughts, I grabbed my Falchion from beside the cot I was sleeping on, and started for the training grounds. It was obvious I was not going to be sleeping, so I might as well spend some time doing something productive instead.

As I moved through the camp, I was struck by how similar to the camps we had used it the future it was. Father and Aunt Emmeryn's tents were in the center of the area, defended by the rings of other tents, with a sparing field to the west, and a makeshift armory to the south.

The pegasi were stabled in the same place, and horses tied as well. I shook my head. Robin and Morgan must have studied the same books of tactics.

The sun had only crested the horizon a short time ago, so I suspected I would not encounter any others at the training field, which suited my purposes. While I show some of my skill in blades fighting Robin, and then later against Father in a spar, I was hesitant to display the full skills I possessed.

As I approached the field however, flashes of light and cracks of magic became discernable. Frowning, I broke into a jog, feeling a both confused an intrigued. Who would be up this early, and practicing magic as well?

As I got closer, two forms became visible. One of them was Gri, her form easy to identify, her cloak flapping as she danced under a series of attacks from someone wearing the armor of a Pegasus Knight. I frowned. Whoever it was, red hair ruled out Mother. To my knowledge the only member of the Shepherds who was red haired was

Severa's mother, Cordelia spun, throwing a low powered blast of lightening at Gri. I frowned when I noticed the bolt was tinged with black lines. Gri ducked another blast, her cloak flaring dramatically, the orange runes along the length blazing to life as the over wash of the magic brushed against her.

"Grima damn it!" I blinked, having never heard Gri swear, and surprised she swore by the god that possessed her. The woman jumped back, magic flashing as her cloak took a direct hit. "Damnit!" She repeated, although the delighted expression on her face implied that, for whatever reason, Gri was pleased.

"Sorry!" Cordelia sounded anything but sorry as I approached.

"That is what my runes are for." Gri retorted, rolling to her feet. I had drawn to within a dozen feet of the duo, apparently one learning from the other. Why Gri would teach anyone else magic, or how to mix regular magic with Fell magic, I wouldn't have the first clue. "Hello Luci-Marth." Turning to face me, Gri caught herself halfway through saying my name, and I gave a mental curse. There was no chance Cordelia wouldn't notice.

"Huh?" Cordelia turned, examining me closely. "Oh!" She exclaimed, obviously having been too engrossed in sparing to notice I was approaching. She turned on Gri, asking some question I ignored.

"Lady of Grima." I inclined my head to Gri, just a bit. "I did not expect to find you here." I turned to Cordelia. "I don't believe we've met before." I sent a brief prayer to Naga that she hadn't noticed Gri's slip, although if Severa was to be believed, her Mother was too sharp to miss such a slipup.

As it happened, the God I championed was not smiling upon me. "Cordelia." She opened her mouth to go on, then stopped herself, and shook her head. "I'm going to guess your name isn't Marth."

"In Naga's name." I groused under my breath. I swore I heard Gri spit her own curse, to the opposite god. Of course it wouldn't.

"Nope. Not Marth at all." Cordelia grinned. I glared at my opposite from the future, expression closing down by the moment.

"You made the mess." I glared at Gri, halfheartedly. The realization of my missing the point did not lend itself well to continued arguing with her. She shrugged.

"I blame you." Her words bit, carrying the weight of a life I had realized I knew nothing about. "For the most part." She added the qualifier a beat later, a downward curl of her lips indicating perhaps she wasn't happy with herself.

Our eyes locked, the question of what to tell Cordelia flickering. It was hard not to flinch, open hostility pinning me in place.

"You are correct, my name is not Marth." I allowed, tearing my expression away from Gri. It wasn't going to get anything done lying about it.

"And I'm willing to bet there is a history between you two." She added, now smiling a little more. That elicited a glare from the both of us, and a thrill of fear down my back. If she could work out that, what else could she figure out?

"And what," Gri's snarl was low, a buildup of magic starting, "Causes you to think that?" I gave a sharp nod in Gri's direction to show my agreement.

Cordelia rolled her eyes. "The fact that you two are glaring death at each other. Your tone of voice when speaking to each other?" She shrugged. "It's obvious really."

"In Naga's name." I swore, before realizing that it was the same way Gri swore. That was a feeling I didn't find myself comfortable with. "This wasn't supposed to happen." Gri snorted, her eyes swirling with annoyance at what was perhaps an obvious fact.

"I'd point out, Lady of Naga, that you should have known. Or did Morgan not bother to point out the likelihood of someone figuring out your little ruse?" Acid dripped from her words. I refused to give her the pleasure of getting a positive answer out of me. Morgan had, indeed warned of such an occurrence, but Morgan's plans had not accounted for the Lady of Grima following us back. None of us had expected something like that.

"I would argue that this wouldn't have been an issue if you hadn't decided that butting your nose in was a good idea." I spat back. The animosity from the other woman was getting under my skin, despite having little heart to the retort. "The entire situation was under control, and then you decided to join in." Cold fire danced in Gri's eyes, her rage seeming to flare up at the suggestion she wasn't needed, or had made it worse.

"Oh?" The typhoon of power was building again. "Need I remind you, Lady of Naga, that you never once wounded him, except for the one time I interfered, and you managed to mess that up?" Not this again, please?

"Need I remind you," I snapped back, memories of the dying, the screaming, the blood flashing behind my vision, "That he teleported away before I could finish the strike?" She sneered, almost draconic in nature.

"Ever heard of a stab through the heart?" Twisted amusement flashed across her face, as though a round-about discussion of her death was funny. "Much faster and more efficient."

"I point out, that if he could heal from near decapitation, I am quite certain repairing the heart would be of little difficulty." Morgan and I had talked about killing Grima, and come to the conclusion that, the only way to kill him, or perhaps Gri, was decapitation. Or just overwhelming him with such power he couldn't recover. Neither of which were good options.

"Wait wait wait." Cordelia waved her hands, head snapping back and for the between us. I jumped, having momentarily forgotten she was there. Oh gods. Gri and I had…oh gods. This wasn't good. This wasn't good at all. Panic formed in my gut, a ball, reaching out tendrils to the rest of me. "What the hell are you two arguing about? And who are we stabbing in the heart?"

"Grima damnit." Gri repeated. "That is a long story." It was a token attempt, the same sort of deflection Morgan might have offered, a way to push the conversation back. If Severa was any indication of her Mother, it wouldn't work.

"As you pointed out," Cordelia retorted, "I took to magic with great ease, so we have time." And, it seems, Severa was.

"We aren't going to win this argument." I muttered, knowing Gri would hear me. The Lady of Grima grunted. I faced Cordelia, considering for a moment how to proceed. It was, perhaps, inevitable that my secret would get out. That left the only option as keeping the issue from getting worse. "I need your promise to tell no one else." I requested, hoping to at least mitigate the mess that would result from this.

Cordelia frowned. "Why?" The question as pointed, if simplistic.

"Because, as you have by now guessed, there is more to either of us than meets the eye, and at this point, knowledge of such things would be…. bad." A weighty silence followed the proclamation.

"I see." Cordelia frowned. "Whoever you are," she addressed me directly, wearing the sort of severe expression her daughter was famous for."I don't know enough to trust you, but I'll trust Gri enough to take her word for the moment."

I inclined my head. That made sense, although it wasn't a ringing endorsement of either of us. "My name is Lucina." I told her. "Gri and I are…." I tried to find a mild way to explain.

"We have traveled time." Apparently my opposite had no such issues, bluntly dropping the fact upon the Pegasus knight. "Our future was…not a pleasant one." She sighed. "To answer your question about us knowing each other, in the future, the two of us were on opposite sides of a war, in various states of willingness. Lucina gave me," Gri pulled her cloak aside to reveal the bright white scar on her neck, "This." Her lips twisted in bitter amusement.

"Perhaps my greatest regret is not finishing the job." I admitted. Gri snorted, waving an indistinct hand.

"That makes two of us." Cordelia blinked, caught off guard by the. "It would have been kinder for me to die that day." The purple haired woman elaborated. "I was not a willing participant in war. Quite the opposite."

"Oh." There was a pause. "I'm sorry." Cordelia murmured.

"Nothing you could have done about it. The only failures were my own, and I've had to live with that fact." The self-loathing was buried in those words, I thought. Not for the first time, I wondered what went on behind Gri's mask, a question that was building more and more since that contact in the forests.

"Still." Cordelia shook her head. "No one should have to suffer through that." The softer smile Gri gave her was strained, I noticed. That was new. The Lady of Grima's control was far too great to be strained by such a simple remark. So, what was I missing?

"Again, nothing you could have done." I felt like Gri was repeating an oft used line, much the same way my acceptance of apologizes from the future became rote. "In any event," She glanced at the sky, "I should to check up on Robin. And if she is awake, yell at her." Before another word could be said, there was a clap of thunder, and Gri was gone. Teleportation magic. Fantastic.

"So…" Cordelia turned to me. "What is there between you two?" I groaned. What had I done to deserve to this.

"Besides mutual animosity and distrust, nothing." I replied, hoping my words were more confident than they sounded in my head.

"Nonsense." Cordelia's expression was that of a wolf who'd cornered its prey. "It's plain as day to see that there is something more between you two than that." I considered lying, before I realized there wasn't any point. Besides, as Morgan often told me, the only person I could lie to was my sister, and even then I wasn't very successful. Something about Cynthia let me get away with it out of pity, or some garbage.

"Doesn't matter regardless." I shrugged, drawing my sword, before glaring. The usual comforting warmth that accompanied the sword was gone. I sighed. Something I had done had pissed off my sword apparently.

"And why's that?" Cordelia pressed. I desperately wished the woman would go away at that moment.

"I spoke from anger, and that was that." I replied, dropping into a stance. "I highly doubt she will ever trust me again." In truth, I wasn't certain of that remark. Still, it made sense; having been burned before, the Lady of Grima would not trust me after I did the same. Even if now, I wanted her too.

"I doubt it." Cordelia shook her head, still wearing that same satisfied expresison. "Just talk to her. I imagine it would do the both of you good."

"I doubt it." I started into my practice, controlled careful strikes as I worked into my forms. Spinning, I flipped Falchion behind my back, as if to deflect a blow, the spun the divine blade back into a high guard.

"Goodness. You are quite skilled with a sword." Cordelia remarked from the side, apparently willing to let the previous subject drop. I felt a bit of heat rise to my checks. Being complimented was something I had to adjust too, and it was a slow process. Amongst the hell the future had been there had been no time for compliments or praise. Either you lived or died, and that was all the remark on your skills that was required.

"I'm not sure about that." I replied, pivoting, and without hesitation, driving a whirlwind series of blows into an imaginary foe. "Gri is far more skilled that I am." Pivoting on my left foot, I spun so that I was facing Cordelia once more. Her head was shaking, her bouncing back and forth.

"No, Lucina, you are the better swordswoman." There was quiet surety in her words although I had no idea why. "I have never seen someone quite so skilled." I snorted. Then she had never met her own daughter. Severa could run circles around me when in the mood. "Your skill with a blade aside, I do have a question for you." I nodded, taking a deep breath.

Falchion hummed in my hand, as if knowing what I wanted to do. The blade wasn't sentient so to speak, however it did have a sort of presence to it, along with being overflowing with Divine magic. I had talent of harnessing this power, shaping into magic, however I could draw the power of Naga into my body, where it allowed me to push my physical limits. Move faster, hit harder, react swifter.

"Ask away." I pivoted again, Falchion moving only a dim white line in my vision as I replayed the strikes from my duel with Grima at the Mila tree. Overhead block, twist to the side, deflect sword to the left, stab.

"Why do you wish me to keep you name a secret?" She asked. "I can understand not wanting anyone to know you came from the future, assuming you truly did, but why you name?"

I ducked under an imagined slash from Grima, stepping forwards, Falchion flashing upwards. In my mind's eye, the razor edge of the blade slipped through the flesh with ease, until that flash of light.

"The reason for that will not be apparent for some time yet." I replied. "Suffice to say that the future I come from is not as distant as you might believe." I couldn't see Cordelia's face, leaving m no means to gauge her reactions. "I have lived a short nineteen years. In that time, I have spent more than ten with a sword in my hand." My head bowed. "I wish to spare myself that agony." Twirling Falchion, I returned the blade to its sheath, before nodding slightly to Cordelia. "I must be going."

Without waiting for a response I strode away from the training ground, feeling drained. However, I did not get far, before I almost walked into Gri. Years of forced situational awareness meant I felt her presence long before we could have made contact.

"What do you want Gri?" I failed to keep tiredness out of my voice. Our eyes met, and I was struck the tiredness in her. The stance, the beginnings of shading beneath her eyes.

"You and I need to sort things out between us Lucina." Just like the first time she had said my name, I shuddered, the strange tingling running up my spine. No iceyness to her now, just the words, plain, and without ornaments. "Otherwise, we might as well tell the entire camp."

Cordelia had implied as much, a roundabout way, and I had to bite my tonge to prevent myself from saying so. "I'm guessing you didn't run away to check on Robin." Gri snorted, although the reason escaped me. Perhaps she realized I was dodging the point.

"Robin will be out of it for at least hours yet." Gri replied, waving a hand, as though it was a forgone conclusion.

For a moment, we stood in silence, the echoes of our argument the previous day hanging ominously over our heads.

"It's pathetic." Gri spoke first, shaking her head. "It took me centuries to come to terms with things, and just when I think I have, all that came crumbling down in a matter of seconds." It was odd, the words weren't' back by an expression, or even much inflection.

"It isn't an easy situation to be in." As I was learning rapidly. "I…" What could I even say? That I didn't blame her? those words seemed paltry in comparison to the history piled up between us.

"Yes." Her head shook, violently, causing her hair to obscure most of her face. "I lost control yesterday… I'm sorry."

Mentally, I was reeling. The Lady of Grima was…apologizing? "We both share some fault in that." More than some fault, really. "I…I…"

"You find yourself caught between the narrative that Grima and I are one and the same; and the reality that none of my existing actions line up with that idea?" Was I that transparent? Or was she simply that observant? Then again, hundreds of years had probably given Gri more skill at reading people than we could ever get.

"You aren't Grima." It was easier to say that words than I expected. "I know that. But at the same time, everything about me screams that you are my enemy." Even then, standing in front of her, Falchion cried out to attack her.

"Knowing that, and accepting it are very different." It was an odd musing, but apt. "It's strange, in a sense, standing next to the woman who I spent years resenting for not killing me." There was a long silence, I found myself unsure of what to say for that. I suppose if someone deserved to contemplate suicide, it was the Lady of Grima, for she had suffered enough, if the theory of her being possessed was right. "Perhaps that is a weakness, resulting from a slow descent into darkness."

So she was possessed? "I doubt it was weakness."

Hair shadowed most of her face as she turned towards me again. "And how is it not? I was weak, let him have control. And now we stand here, in a past that shouldn't exist, as pair of enemies stuck between that, and the knowledge of what might come."

And I thought my sister could be overly poetic. "Gri. I am the person supposedly gifted with the powers to end Grima, and I failed. Over and over, and only against him at his weakest. You cannot blame yourself for not being able to prevent him from eventually possessing you." Her lips parted to form words. "And by your own admission, you did manage to fight him."

A snort. "I'm not sure that is a rosy picture to be painted." With a sigh, she waved a hand. "And where does any of this leave us Lucina? Is there a chance for us to work together enough to send Grima back to the hell he crawled out off?"

And that was the question. Gri had, despite everything, had extended those proverbial olive branch to me, even in the light of yesterday. She was here, with the Shepherds, with the promise to protect my Father. Which, given the rumors about the fighting from two days ago, seemed like she was doing well enough at it.

"The only thing we can do it try." A helpless shrug was all I can do.

Reaching up, Gri pushed her hair back, giving a slow nod. "We're never going to leave history behind us, I think." Her hand came to rest on the hilt of her own Falchion. At my hip, my own blade protested. "We still need to sort out difference out." Giving a nod, I offered her a hand.

* * *

 **A/N: And…. done. Blergh…. but I'm on time! Aura can't yell at me now. And I'm sorta happy with this one. Some backstory things happening here, and more funnies of arguments. And also, I can have a reasonable explanation for promotions when those happen! Huzzah! That'll be for a later explanation though, not really relevant now. As always, major thanks to Aura of Twilight, for putting up with my crap when writing this thing, even if I'm sure only a third of it makes sense at the time.**

 **Speaking of Aura of Twilight, I finally know what her FFN is! Angel of Darkness and Light. (We can now expect me to forget this by next week… sadness) She just put out a Fire Emblem crossover with RWBY, if anyone here is interested in both those things. She puts up with my crap writing my own things, so if you're so inclined, so show her stuff some love.**

 **Reviews, comments, questions, constructive criticism are always appreciated.**


	15. Chapter Fourteen: Prelude

**Chapter Fifteen: Prelude, and Considerations**

 **Tactician of Ylisse: Robin**

"Lady Robin?" The voice wasn't one I was familiar with. Not quite enough to be Sumia, not bubbly enough for Lissa, not snobby enough for Maribelle, and wrong tone for Miriel. Cracking a single eye, I couldn't hold back a wince at the light. Blinking a few times, I rubbed my eyes, before taking in my surroundings.

"….Gri is going to kill me." I decided, eliciting a small giggle from whoever it was that woke me up.

"I think she is a bit preoccupied with Marth at the moment." Pegasus Knight from her armor and clothes. Striking red hair as well. That made this woman the person who I had healed out there…and thus landed myself here.

"Um…what?" The incoming rush of information was becoming overwhelming, and I shook my head trying to clear it. Marth. What did he have to do with _anything_ right now?

"I imagine Gri is a bit too busy with Marth, I think his name was, to worry about killing you." She replied, her lips curling into a smirk. "The tension between those two is thick enough to cut with a blade."

"I see." I frowned, putting those details aside for now. . "I'm sorry, but despite being the one who healed you, I confess I don't know your name."

"Oh!" The woman exclaimed, her expression becoming one of intense embarrassment. "My name is Cordelia." She paused, becoming somewhat contrite. "Gri and Sumia tell me I have you to thank for my survival?" A melancholy note passed across her eyes, and then it was gone, replaced by a tension in the muscles of her neck. Odd.

"I will take their word for that." I replied, feeling a small degree of unease as the idea of having people in my debt. "Although I seem to have misjudged the backlash of my spell, but from the fact you are here and well suggests the results were worthwhile." Cordelia nodded. "Now, what is this about Marth and Gri?" It had to be asked eventually after all. Last I knew, Marth was…somewhere, and Gri was skulking about the camp, scaring regular soldiers, and scheming.

"There seemed to be something between them." She shrugged. That would imply that Marth was, here? in the camp. Amongst the Shepherds. "They got into an impressive argument just after sunup." I frowned. In Ferox, Gri had avoided Marth, yes, but that didn't prove much of anything.

"I see." Thinking left me with a painful headache, and not much success in the actual operation of coming to logical conclusions. Then, more light was thrown into the tent, sending my mostly adjusted eyes into a frenzy once again.

"Glad to see you final decided to join us again." Chrom's voice was teasing. I glared anyway, not appreciating the light adding to my throbbing headache. "I was hoping you knew something about whatever is going on between Gri and Marth."

"I just woke up from what I can only assume to be a magical induced coma, and the first thing you do is ask me if I know anything about the woman who might as well be my twin, and the mysterious man who seems to be our stalker? Not even a concerned, how are you feeling Robin?"

To his credit, Chrom turned red, and Cordelia giggled once more. "Um…How are you feeling?" His attempt to recover was admirable, but fell well short. None the less, I started laughing. Chrom seemed very confused, not that I expected much less. Take a sword out of his hand, and the man was clueless or so it would seem sometimes.

"It's fine Chrom." I told him, recovering from my laughing fit, and wincing. Apparently magically burning myself out had the unintended consequence of making my muscles extremely sore.

"What do you mean by Gri is almost your twin?" He asked, seeming willing to put aside my slightly bout of causticity. The question made me sigh.

"Surely you've noticed." I asked him, but went on before he could answer. "We fight almost exactly the same, style, magic, all of it. Hell, the only difference is the complexity of the spells we use, and that is more because she has the money to invest in tomes that I do not." I shrugged.

"She doesn't have your mind for tactics." Chrom offered, sounding quite unconvinced in his own denial.

"Only because she doesn't have too." I shot back. "The few times I've talked to her she's been quite knowledgeable. Where it not for the fact that she has said that to her knowledge she had no siblings, I would believe we were twins Chrom." I noticed Cordelia's eyes were narrow, some gears were turning behind her eyes. "Even then, with my amnesia, it's possible enough.

"Don't worry about it much." Chrom advised, offering a small shrug. "Especially if half of what's Gri implied about her childhood is true…" Less than half could be true, and would make for a miserable life to have started with. So perhaps not remember, if Gri was wrong, was better.

"Giving it a rest for now seemed best." I agreed, making a mental note to return to the question, when my head wasn't pounding.

"Indeed." Chrom sighed. "Now, to make an ass of myself again, we have need to your services as tactician."

"Plegia has declared war, yes yes." I groaned. Damnit. Couldn't I get just a few more hours of sleep first? "I gather I was volunteered to do more than just lead the Shepherds." It was not quite a question. Chrom shrugged.

"Emm has asked for your help yes. If Gri is as competent as you say, asking her might be worthwhile, but…" Finding her, and approaching her might be a bit interesting, given her demeanor.

"You'll need to bring anyone who wants to talk to me here for a bit." I warned him. "I don't trust myself to walk at the moment." I offered a slight nod to Cordelia. "While apparently my results were excellent, the process needs refinement." Cordelia laughed, a bit forced, although I had no idea why.

"Gri said the exact same thing." Red hair bobbed in accordance with a nod. "Perhaps more crudely." I winced, not having been aware Gri was capable of crudeness. "She also tells me that I would have bleed out in Sumia's arms, had you not done what you did." There was only a small tremor in those words, one I knew in an instant Chrom didn't catch, from the way his expression didn't flare with concern. "Thank you."

. "Don't worry about it." I told her. "You're a friend of Sumia, and that makes you a friend of mine." Cordelia nodded a little, and Chrom gave a definitive nod.

"Robin's right." He placed a hand on Cordelia's shoulder. I saw her tense, a slight reddening of her cheeks, eyes flitting back and forth.

Oh hell. As obvious as Sumia's crush on Chrom had been, Cordelia's seemed to be subtle. I reminded myself briefly that I couldn't be certain, but I came up with no other explanation for Cordelia's actions.

"I'll go gather Emmeryn and some of the others." Chrom went on, oblivious to both my observation, and Cordelia's feelings. "Hopefully I can find Gri and Marth, they've seem to have vanished into the shadows." He rolled his eyes. I grunted in agreement.

Giving a softer smile, Chrom strode out of the tent, leaving me alone with the woman whose life I had saved.

"I'm sorry." She spoke in a sudden manner, almost rushed. The words spilled forth in a torrent I couldn't interrupt. "I should have been stronger…better…been able to protect myself…you shouldn't…"

"Cordelia!" I cut her off at the first chance I had, my tone firm. She stopped, eyes wide. "You have nothing to apologize for. I cast the spell knowing what might happen, and I'd do it again." I paused, watching her face. "Don't blame yourself." I advised.

"They died so I could get away." She whispered. "How can I not blame myself?" I found myself at a loss for what to say.

"They fought to help you escape, because they believed you were the best and brightest. That you had the best chance to warn the Exalt of the coming danger, and that you would do the best job of restoring their numbers when Gangrel is put down like the mad dog he is." Gri's near monotone was far more expressive than usual as the woman stepped into the tent, making no sound even as she did. Marth stepped in beside her, his masked face unreadable as it had been in the past.

"What?" Cordelia stared long and hard into Gri's eyes. Those stormy orbs held and unshakable faith in their own statement. "How do you know what they said?" She demanded.

Gri didn't blink, or move an inch under the intense scrutiny. "You mumble in your sleep." There was a slight flick of her eyes to the side, and her shoulders curled inwards just a bit. That was a tell. I knew at once, for the first time, I had caught Gri in a lie. But why lie about that? And where else would she have gotten the information?

"Oh." Cordelia cooled off at once, eyes downcast once more. Gri's posture softened, and I saw her exchange an almost uneasy glance with Marth. The enigmatic man, for his part, didn't react. I did, however, see the smallest glint of a tear through the eye of the mask.

"I didn't know your comrades," Marth spoke up in the silence that had stretched, "Nor do I know you particularly well." He paused, as though weighting the words. "But in my experience people do not make the sort of the sacrifice they did without just cause."

Reading Marth was perhaps harder than reading Gri. His posture was always relaxed, almost leonine, ready for a fight. The mask made reading facial expressions nigh on impossible, expect for the turn of lips, or set of his jaw. At least when reading Gri, I could see her entire face, even schooled as it often was.

"I should go." Cordelia made to stand. Gri shook her head.

"If you can, it would be better if you stay." She paused, as steeling herself for something unpleasant. "Any insight you have into the numbers or composition of Grimeal in Gangrel's forces would be welcome." I nodded in agreement.

"You don't have to." I spoke up, and Gri nodded, before letting me go on. "Talk about what happened can wait if you aren't comfortable with it."

Cordelia seemed to fight with herself for a moment, before giving a slow nod. "I…I will try." She offered, sounding quite unsure.

"That is more than I can in good conscience ask." I admitted, allowing a silence to form again.

Wishing Chrom would hurry up, so I could sleep off my growing headache, I took to watching Gri and Marth. Cordelia had a point, there was something going on between them, although I suspected she wasn't quite on the mark with her suggestion of romantic involvement.

The tension that charge the air between the duo was powerful, and, oddly enough, forced, although by what factors I couldn't say. I frowned, studying their posture a bit more.

Gri appeared relaxed, her arms folded behind her back, at least at first glance. A more searching look however, revealed something striking. Gri's cloak was pushed back in such a way that she could draw either of the two swords at her hips without interference, and the subtle shift in her center of gravity meant that, in reality, Gri was tense for a fight. Only a moment of simple analysis told me that, if startled, Gri would have both magic and sword ready to defend herself in an instant. A spell, probably Thoron, first, to cover her sword being drawn, followed by what I suspected would be a slash toward the face. The bulk of her attention was focused on Marth, almost wary; as if she expected to be attacked at a moment's notice.

Marth, meanwhile, expressed the same posture towards Gri. His hands were positioned in such a way as to draw his Falchion in between the duo. A slight shift of weight backwards, and a simple adjustment of the left foot, and Marth could adopt his fighting stance. I frowned further. Tension, and wariness, but neither party exhibited any sort of aggressiveness, which would indicate the reasoning for such tension.

"Robin?" The flap of the tent flew open, revealing Chrom, Emmeryn, Sumia, Fredrick, and a host of faces I did not know. "Everyone is here, although I can't find Gri or Marth." He stepped into the tent, catching sight of the aforementioned duo. "Oh. Never mind." Shaking his head, Chrom turned to the arriving party. "For those of you who are unaware, this is Robin, the Shepherds tactician, and architect of the plan that rescued Lady Maribelle."

"Your tactician is bedridden?" Someone from the new faces sounded less than impressed. Not, I figured that it would impress upon various nobility the magnitude of magic I had cast.

"If you wish to make a comment, I suggest you consider very carefully who had done more in service of House Ylisse in these last months." Marth's voice was frigid. "As I understand it, Robin has lead the operation to Regina Ferox to gain the aid of the Khan's; she defended the people of your realm on several occasions, and even went so far as to be one of the two people who stood beside the Prince when the Exalt went to speak with the mad King." Marth's frosty words carried across the entire tent, despite the softness. "You, meanwhile had done nothing but sit on you small amount of accumulated wealth, and spouted racist views, General Hayfield." Sumia, Cordelia and I stared at Marth, that sentence having been one of the longest from Marth. Chrom was as well, although his gaze was more suspicious. The vitriol in the young man's tone was incredible as well. What did he have against Ylissean nobility.

"Who do you think you-" The now named General Hayfield started to ask.

"Ex Astris: Seza!" Gri spat the spell, her voice deepening to a rumble. The general gave a strangled sound, and his voice ceased working. "Lady Emmeryn…" I wasn't sure what sort of warning Gri's words contained, but one was easy to detect. She wouldn't really think about hurting the man?

"What have you done?" Another retainer exclaimed, his eyes wide with terror, as the General continued to spit and flail.

"Silenced an idiot." I shuddered. Every other time I had been exposed to Fell Magic, it had evoked a feeling of nausea, and a headache. This time, I hadn't felt Gri's power at all until she spoke,. "Let me explain something to all of you right here and now." Just like Marth, her voice carried easily. "You are at war with a lunatic King who will stop at nothing to see your entire nation burn. He has gained the allegiance of what can be described, at best, as a sadistic cult, one that wants nothing more than to resurrect their insane god, who will wrack destruction upon this world, and caper gleefully amongst the flames." Marth gave a sharp nod, as though to confirm the point. "And if you do not cast aside your stupidity, he will succeed in ending everything you hold dear."

"Nonsense!" The same retainer snorted. "They could not burn Ylisse to the ground! Our army will hold the heathens off!"

"I don't know who you are," I cut into the conversation, "But as you appear to have no knowledge of military tactics, or combat, I question why you are even here." I glared, feeling my already limited patience begin to fade with the rising throbbing my head. "I just woke up from a magically induced coma, saving the life of someone who actually fought for Ylisse. I have a splitting headache, can barely walk, because I apparently induced a magical super-seizure in myself healing said person. I need to do about a thousand other things today, besides listen to ignorant, fear mongering bullshit, so if you have nothing useful to say, get the fuck out of this tent!" Lashing out was a less than productive thing, and logically I knew it, but the feeling of yelling was a good one.

The man I was yelling at paled, but stood firm under the onslaught of words.

"So says the bedridden tactician." Another snapped back, proving that perhaps stupid was contagious.

"I suggest you leave." I hadn't even seen Marth move, but he was no longer where he had been. "I would hate to have my first impression with the Exalt be murdering one of her retainers." There was a pause. "I also hate to do someone else's work for them, especially when they are quite capable." The man paled more. I heard more than saw Marth draw his Falchion. "I dislike soiling Falchion with blood, but if you do not leave, I will make an exception." Gods above, he was terrifying. There was no wavering in those words, only a level of pure certainty that came with years of dedication and practice.

"And if Marth does not end you," The air in the room darkened, magic suffusing the air, "I'm sure Grima's digestive track is an appropriate hell for you." I shuddered, remembering Gri's words to Aversa. _Your God is angry._ She had said. At the time, I had considered that a fear tactic. Now…I wasn't as sure.

Giving a terrified squeal, most of the noblemen ran from the tent. I couldn't help but sigh in relief.

"Chrom." Emmeryn chided. "Must your associates run my advisors from the room?" She turned to the rest of us, only seeming a bit annoyed.

"They are not fit to advise you upon anything but ass kissing and treason." Gri's response was cold and decisive, back to her normal self, as the magic faded away.

"Lady Robin has done more for the Halidom of Ylisse than that entire group of men combined." Marth replied, his voice cooler. To some degree, I found being defended by the pair odd. Both spoke with the same calm decisive certainty of purpose, yet the approach they took was so different. Gri was caustic, tearing into the nobles, while Marth was reinforcing, commenting on me perosnally. The dichotomy was odd.

Chrom meanwhile just shrugged. "I've never liked them myself Emm, you know that." I noticed he didn't seem too ashamed of that fact. "Hell, I disliked them before Fredrick did." Everyone in the room stared in surprise.

"My Lord speaks the truth." The knight agreed, his lips almost approving in their smile. "Perhaps the only instance he has exhibited suitable caution in his actions." Good old Fredrick. He knew at once the tension in the room, and made a valiant attempt to inject some humor.

Lucky for him, it worked. Everyone chuckled at the dependable answer. Emmeryn herself sighed.

"You have never approved of a single member of the court Chrom." The Exalt pointed out. Chrom shrugged, unrepentant.

"As Gri put it seems best." He replied. "They proved good for damn near nothing, in my experience, and have led you into more than one mire that we Shepherds had to dig out of." There was no resentment in those words, only honest truth.

"If I may." I jumped in. "We should probably get this meeting over with, before my headache gets any worse than it already is."

* * *

 **A/N: So. Bleh. Not happy. Not happy at all. But rewriting is something I've done so damn much this week I'm not doing it again. Thousands of words down the drain sucks hard (RWBY has been kicking my ass). Not doing that again, and from looking ahead, I've got enough of that to do already so yay for me (this is why I should have done this shit a month after I wrote it, instead of damn near a year later. Yes ,that can give you a clue as to just how far ahead of the publishing curve my writing is right now for this). Also why this is late, because trying to make it palatable. And it...should be.**

 **So, this is ending here, (also because meetings are boring as hell, so I'll spare you the horror).**

 **To my guest reviewer commenting about self inserts being cliche, nothing about hte story is self insert. My name is not Gri, for one, nor is it Robin, or Lucina. Second, if I ended up in this particular variation of teh Fire Emblem world, I'd get murderized right away. Also, as fun as dragging Ashera or otherwise in might be, the mythos and magic I'm working with is already complicated enough with just Grima and Naga, I don't need to start getting it even more muddled by adding a third entitiy to the mix.**

 **Reviews, Questions, comments, concerns whatever are always appreciated, and I'll attempt to be prompt about answering. Pretty sure I's been terrible about that this week, but RWBY writing is kicking my ass. As always, major thanks to Aura/Angel, for putting up with my shit.**


	16. Interlude: The Mad King's War

**Interlude: Mad King War**

 **The Lady of Grima: Gri**

In the two days that had passed since Emmeryn departed for the capitol, the entire camp had been abuzz with activity, as the remaining regular soldiers secured the border crossing, and the Shepherds prepared for the march South, in accordance with Robin's latest plans. She had come to the conclusion that if Ylisse was to fight a defensive war, the army would be ground down by sheer weight of numbers, even augmented by the promised Feroxi troops. Plegia simply had a larger army, and at least by comparison to Ylisse a better trained one. Turning this into a knock down drag out fight would only end in disaster for Ylisse.

If I had any doubts about my relationship to Robin, they had been thoroughly dispelled in the intervening time. From the meetings, she had reached all the same conclusions I had in relation to the upcoming war, and probably faster than I would have back when I was that age, and experience.

"Thinking deep thoughts?" I turned, hiding my surprise at the address, to face Chrom and Fredrick. The Prince of Ylisse had seemed unusually tense these past few days, something I at first wrote off as worry for his sister, except the way of manifesting wasn't quite right. Perhaps he was simply worried about the upcoming war. Not having seen one himself to this point, it was quite possible the idea of war unnerved him. Privately, I hoped it would.

"Just considering our situation." Not dishonest, per se, but not quite honest either. My situation was, his situation at least on some level. "If we are going to with Grimeal, I might have to use more Fell magic than I like. And, although I know I do not show it, using Fell magic is a strain, on both body and mind." That, truthfully was a bit of an understatement. Our little battle with Gangrel's men had taxed me more than I liked to admit, and retrospectively was likely responsible for my loss of temper when dealing with Lucina.

"What do you mean?" Fredrick spoke up, his customary caution in place. In another time and place, I might have found it comforting, the steady and constant way in which he acted. At the moment, it was simply an annoyance.

"There is not a good description, because you are not versed in magic Sir Fredrick." I replied. "But…imagine when I call upon Fell magic, I am casting out a line, and hooking a fish made of Grima's magic." I considered just how terrible the analogy I was making was, although there wasn't much by way of better options. "Now, of course, this fish fights back when you reel it in."

"Thus, the more metaphorical fish you must catch, the more mentally fatigued you become." Fredrick filled in. Good. He caught on quickly.

"Just so. The analogy isn't the best, but you understand the basic principle." I elected not to say a word about the corruptive influence of Fell magic upon the mind. Chrom wouldn't like the idea I was teaching Robin about it, where that to pass. "It has been a long time since I needed to call large amounts often, so I am unused to the effort required to do so." That, and unless I fully embraced Grima, he would resist more and more, the more I demanded.

"Don't push yourself too hard." Chrom advised, concern flashing in his expression. "You're one of the best of us, if not the best, and the rest of us can pick up some slack if you need a rest." Oh, if only you knew Chrom, if only you knew.

I sighed. "If only that were true." I shook my head. "The problem is Chrom, if we fight Fell mages, it has to be me, Robin, Cordelia, or Math who fight them." I gave a moment of thought. "And maybe you. That's it." A generous estimate, really. Putting Cordelia in a pitched battle with the Grimeal was not something I would advise doing.

"What?" Both men stared at me. I sighed, reminding myself that I had elected to stay around to convince the Lady of Naga to trust me.

"Robin and Cordelia because they can cast Fell magic, which means they can match a Fell mage in a head to head power struggle. Although Cordelia isn't the most skilled with magic, the woman learns at a rate that defies all concepts of logic. You and Marth because of your Falchions." How much information to give… "Although not widely known, the Falchion is a repository of Divine magic, meaning that a mage with enough skill can use it to fuel divine spells, much like a staff, except the Falchion can do so much more than a staff." Or that was the rumor. I had never seen a wielder of Falchion perform any truly exceptional feat of magic, but most of them didn't delve into the arcane.

"Including protect against the magic of Grima." Chrom nodded. "The tales of the first Exalt, and even the Hero King himself do speak of such powers." Frederick murmured his agreement to the notion.

"Just so." I shrugged. "The other thing you have to understand about Grimeal Chrom, is that vast majority of them are utterly insane." Pausing, I considered the description for a moment. "Insanity might be a kinder term, in truth. No concept of self-preservation, only a twisted desire to serve their god, and be united with him in death." Or return him to the mortal coil.

"And you were raised by such people?" Fredrick sounded vaguely sick.

"Raised would not be the term I choose, but yes, I spent my formative years amongst them." While I knew the curiosity was not unwarranted, I was secretive by nature, and hadn't told them anything about myself, it was still hard to stamp down my desire to lash out at such questions.

"Gods." From the corner of my eye, I could see the Knight wince. "I…I apologize for doubting you when we first met." He spoke softly, as though unsure how I might respond. Of all the things one might apologize for, that was least, in my eyes.

"You wish only for the safety of your Lord." The reply was swift. "You have nothing to apologize for." Besides, I thought, you are not nearly as wrong you are thinking you were, I added mentally. Hopefully it would be a while before Frederick found out who, and what, I was. Unlikely Lucina, I harbored no notions about such an event coming to pass, but that didn't' mean I wanted it to happen soon.

"Still." The Knight sighed. "I was harsh on both you and Robin, and you done nothing but aid us. Robin saved Cordelia's life." He sighed. "It is hard to reconcile my caution with the fact that had things turned out differently, a friend and comrade would be dead."

"Fredrick, I highly doubt you could run off Gri or Robin if you had tried." Chrom pointed out, smiling just a bit. "Gri here would just knock you upside the head, and Robin would zap you." He laughed. "She finally got rid of at least a few of Emm's advisors, with Marth and Gri's help after all. We've been trying to pull that off for how long?"

"Far too long." The Knight shook his head. I frowned. Were Lucina and I truly that terrifying? Or where the men just that cowardly? After a second of reflection I decided both, given the experience Lucina and I had in a war that was, in the most literal sense, hell, and that those people had not.

"In my admittedly limited experience, stewing on what might have been leads to naught but ill." I offered, looking out at the rising sun. The orb was just cresting the horizon.

"This is true." Fredrick agreed, watching Chrom move off back into the camp to rouse the Shepherds. "You are quite wise for your years." Fredrick mused aloud.

I grunted. Wisdom was not the word I would have used. Hard bitten experience seemed more accurate. "Many of life's lessons are best learned with loss." I whispered something I had been told in the future. "It is always better to learn by watching another lose, rather than to lose yourself." I shook my head. "So I was told years ago." Fredrick frowned into the sunrise.

"That is….a rather dark view of the world." He offered at long last.

"Quite." I agreed. "The Grimeal will never be a cheerful people." I sighed. "Even the sane and moral amongst such a number exist to serve a dark twisted god. As opposed to torturing you for hours before ripping out your heart, with will simply slit your throat while you sleep." I shook my head.

"Gods." The knight shook his head. "I am glad you found a way to escape such hell." I sighed.

"So am I." I paused. "And now Gangrel will drag me back there again before this is done." I added with a sigh. Fredrick frowned heavily. "I am under no allusions how this war will go Sir Fredrick. Chrom and the Shepherds will be on the front lines. And I will be there with you. I imagine at some point, Robin will come to the same conclusion I have, perhaps she even already has, that if this war is to end, Gangrel must be killed. And the Shepherds will be the ones to do it." My knowledge of the past had no bearing upon drawing such a conclusion. Only cold logic. Although I vaguely recalled Chrom being credited with sending Gangrel to a miserable hell in my past.

"I figured that out the first night." I turned, watching Robin approach. She walked a bit gingerly, as if the muscles of her legs were still unwilling to take her weight, but otherwise seemed in good health. "The alternative is a war of attrition, one that will bleed the army of both sides dry, and end in the same sequences of events, only years of bloody conflict later."

"Indeed." I sighed. "Still, we need to warn the southern forts first." Robin nodded.

"Fascinating." Fredrick shook his head. "That you both reached the exact same conclusion."

To me, it made perfect sense, especially the more and more I was convinced that Robin was me, before I was possessed by Grima. That conclusion still sent a thrill of terror racing through my veins.

No, I wasn't more and more convinced. I knew. Just was too afraid to admit it.

"Perhaps." I waved the observation off. "We had best help break camp, so we can be on our way." The knight nodded, turning and heading off. Robin gave me a calm nod, and headed towards the sparing fields, where I knew Lucina had been for the last hour. Robin had made it her personal mission to figure out the Lady of Naga's secrets, which I knew meant by extension she was hunting for my secrets as well.

The flap of wings let me know the either Sumia or Cordelia was returning from their patrol. Being the only two capable of riding pegasi amongst the ranks of Shepherds, the duo had been exchanging the work of scouting at night.

"Lady Gri!" Sumia's voice called out as the Pegasus clattered to earth on my left side.

"A moment?" Cordelia landed smoothly upon my right. I withheld my surprise, wondering what the situation was.

"Of course." I chuckled. "I confess; I'm surprised to see both of you out flying this early." For a brief moment I considered pointing out to Sumia that I wasn't a Lady, before I realized how futile it was. Sumia, in a bizarre fit, could be quite confident about some things, and then have the surety of wet paper in others.

"Oh!" Sumia shrugged, or at least that is what the sound of her armor indicated to me. "Robin wanted us to scout the road she plans on taking south." I gave a small nod. A reasonable precaution, and one I would have taken in her shoes. Damnit. There I was again, coming back to that same point.

"Anyways, we got talking on the way back, about how you are teaching me magic, and," Cordelia started. I gave a brief moment to bemused thinking to how on earth one held a conversation while flying on a Pegasus, but decided that was a question for a different day.

"And I was wondering if um…." Sumia stumbled a bit over her words. "Well, you and Robin have helped me a bunch, and I don't want to impose but…"

"Sumia," I cut her off in as gentle a manner as I could, "Just ask." If you don't, we'll be here until nightfall, I mused, at least, if my recollection of the past was a good one.

"Um…yes." She took an audible breath. "Do you think you can teach me magic, like you are teaching Cordelia?" She spoke in a rush. I took a moment to take the words apart, before considering what I could recall of Sumia, during the few times we fought, both side by side, and when I was possessed. Sumia had shown not skill in magic to this point, which I assumed was why she fought with lances upon her Pegasus. Yet, at the same time, the memory of Sumia, her fingers flashing with Magic, capitol M intended, remained. Other memories surfaced as well, those involving screaming, bloody, begging… I blinked once, shutting those sensations out.

"I will do my best." I offered. "I maintain I'm not a good teacher however." Sumia shook her head, no doubt to make the assertion that I was just fine.

"Nonsense!" She asserted, right on cue. "You are a great teacher. You and Robin both." I heard more than saw Cordelia's nod. "You helped me a bunch, and Cordelia showed me some of the magic you've taught her."

I didn't answer, still feeling embarrassed, and disagreeing with the two them. Besides that, Cordelia was not about to give up on that idea, so arguing was going to get me nowhere.

"Well," Cordelia mused, expressions somewhat more teasing, "Marth probably get's some credit, for letting me throw spells at him."

I snorted. "Marth," I remarked, "Is just happy to have someone willing to throw spells at him, so the moron can practice dodging." It was a strange little accord, involving Cordelia. Lucina, no doubt in an attempt to better herself against mages, had consented to let Cordelia refine her magical technique by means of throwing obscene numbers of spells Lucina's direction.

"What are you saying about me now?" Icy tone. Without turning to see her face, it would be hard to guage her mood, but based on that tone, not good. So, perhaps,

"The same thing I always have." I replied. "That you are far too uptight for your own good, and one of these days, that stick you have shoved Grima knows where is going to grow so large you choke on it."

Lucina glared.

"Er…Gri? Why do you swear to Grima?" Sumia asked, as if to break the tension. I frowned, not even realizing I had been.

"Bad habit." I replied. "Then again, I don't think I could ever swear to Naga without risking a bolt from the heavens."

"Maybe you should try, and rid the world of another blight on existence." Lucina snapped, sweeping past into the camp. I blinked in surprise. Since we had accidentally revealed our ruse to Cordelia, Lucina had either avoided me, and when she had spoken to me, she had avoided making any kind of verbal attack, even the few times I had taken a swipe at her. This had been the first deviation from that trend in a while.

"That was kind of harsh." Sumia pointed out after a moment. I shrugged.

"Probably." I sighed. "Not that it matters much anymore." The bridges between us were burned, not to the point of no repair, but to a point where the repair was more work than either of us seemed willing to put in.

"If you two would talk to each other, instead of sniping, I disagree." Cordelia pointed out. I grunted. Why was she still on that kick?

"Whatever." I shrugged. "Doesn't matter much anyway." I repeated. And it didn't. I would see Grima dead, without or without Lucina. The Lady of Naga was not an essential part of my plans. If I had my way, she wouldn't have to be involved in the situation at all.

"I think Cordelia might have a point." Sumia agreed. Damnit of course these two would agree. They were great friends after all, in spite of how diametrically opposed their personalities might have been.

"Based on what logic?" I retorted facing the two of them, trying to drain all emotion from my face. For some reason, the exercise took more effort than usual.

"Well, for starters." Cordelia gave a sideways look at Sumia. I understood her meaning. We had some kind of history in the future, our past. "The few times I have seen the pair of you interact without one or both of you being a bitch, you seem to have this instinctive knowledge of each other. It's as though you know exactly what the other one is going to do, and plan your actions to match, and compliment that."

"It's kind of like when Robin and C-Chrom spar." Sumia offered, stumbling over her crushes name. "They just sort of fit together, you know?" She paused, frowning. "Except there is more of it to the pair of you. You just sort of do that, except it's _everywhere._ "

In Grima's name… they were seriously implying that something romantic existed between Lucina and I? How the bloody hell had they come to that conclusion?

"That example isn't quite right Sumia." Cordelia had a smirk in her voice, one that I truly didn't like. "The way they interact is closer to you and Chrom, but the effect is the same as you describe."

"The two of you are completely serious aren't you?" Facing them, I fought to keep my expression neutral. The words weren't a question, more of a resigned statement.

"Of course." Cordelia's smirk was just about insufferable, and although Sumia didn't wear the same facial expression.

"Yup!" Sumia at least has the grace to look sort of ashamed. Had there been a wall, I would have banged my head upon it. As it was, I tried to glare, before realizing that wasn't helping my case.

"While I can neither confirm nor deny the whole, we somehow precognitively predict each other's actions, I will say that there is nothing romantic between Marth and I." For fucks sake, I killed her mother! Her mother who is arguing that I should take up a romantic relationship with her disguised daughter! The level of wrong in this conversation had hit new record levels.

"Gri…" Sumia giggled, just a bit. "You are giving the same denial I gave to Robin when she first asked me if I had feelings for Chrom." I glared harder. Fuck you, Robin. Wait…how did…Urgh. I groaned. This was giving me a headache.

"I see." I sighed. I wasn't going to win this argument. That was obvious. "Get some rest you too, I'll find you once we get underway marching, and help you with magic." Without waiting for a response, I pulsed my magic, and envisioning the far side of the camp, released the spell with a muttered word.

 **Lady of Naga: Lucina**

The thundering snap of Gri's teleportation made me jump, and I spun towards the sound, Falchion raised.

Even as Gri appeared from the pillar of lightening, I didn't relax my guard. Something was off about the Lady of Grima. Her eyes were only partially focused, and her lips moving in time with some unvoiced thoughts. She didn't even seem to notice me, striding to the far side of the field, muttering the entire way.

I watched, a frown forming. Neither Gri nor Grima were ever this distracted. For once, I noticed, the Falchion did not warm in my palm at her approach. That would only be possible if she was pulling no Fell magic at all, only further adding to the hardening impression of Gri as her own person. Logically knowing such a thing was very different from accepting it, I knew, but I wasn't' being given much of a choice.

"Of all the asinine things…" I overhead the mutter as Gri drew her sword. The steel weapon was of fine make, but seemed ill suited for her hands as she slid into her traditional stance.

My frown deepened as she started moving. To the untrained eye, the movement would have seemed smooth and flowing. I was far from untrained however.

Gri's form was, at best, sloppy. She spun, twisting under an imagined blow, her blade up in a powerful two handed strike that seemed highly out of place in Gri's usual style of fighting. The Lady of Grima fought with an open hand, easing the casting of magic, which was interwoven with her whirlwind of strikes and dodges. For her to fall back two handed blows was peculiar, but not intrinsically out of character. .

For a long time, I considered speaking, the memory of our brief verbal spar on my mind. Gri hadn't been especially hostile these last few days. I could only recall three times, counting that one, that she had taken a verbal swipe at me, and most of those had been almost grudging it seemed. I, in turn, had avoiding taking swipes back, as I didn't want more confrontation with the other woman.

"Your form is sloppy." I spoke up as Gri continued moving, her blade weaving an intricate web of steel. She froze in place, before turning, eyes locking with mine.

There was a brief flash of some emotion there, before she clamped down on it. "And your point is what?" She snapped, although I had the feeling the anger wasn't directed at me.

"You are distracted." I shrugged. "I don't claim to be an expert on the Lady of Grima," I went on, "But I know that you have the insane ability to compartmentalize. Thus, nothing truly distracts you." I stepped towards her. "You don't get sloppy Gri. If something bothers you, I know you just lock it away in a box, until you have time to deal with it."

"Fuck you." I blinked. Profanity was not the reaction I expected. Not in the least. Neither Gri, nor her twisted God swore aloud particularly often. Gri paused, before a high cold laugh ripped from her. "Grima damn them all." She shook her head.

"Grima damn who?" This was not going how I might have guessed it would. Had I any less knowledge of Grima, and the mannerisms I suspected he would share with his vessel, my first thought would have been that Gri snapped.

"Cordelia. Your mother. Me. Robin. The both of us." She waved a hand, turning to face away.

"Why my mother?" A hard edge bled into my tone, despite my best effort. Gri snorted.

"Did you know that Cordelia and her have this insane idea that there exists something romantic between the two of us?" I flinched. What? How did they come to that conclusion? Especially since Gri and I had spoken perhaps a hundred words to each other the last three days.

"What? Why?" I demanded, forgetting my desire to be cordial in the heat of the moment. Gri snorted.

"You know the thing your parent's do where they just seem to know what the other is thinking." She asked, then pressed on before I could express my affirmative. "Even now they have that same sort of effect to them." She snorted. "Hopefully Chrom figures out he likes her, and she's able to defend herself, or I think Robin might brain him with a brick." Taking a breath to recover from that note, Gri pressed on. "She claims we have that same sort of presence."

"What?" I wanted to outright deny the words, but I knew my mother would never say such a thing out of hand, even considering that she didn't know I was her daughter. Taking a deep breath, I started thinking about it, giving some honest thought.

Mother wasn't wrong, I supposed. Gri and I did tend to know what the other was going to do, more as a result of years of fighting against each other in some form than any sort of romantic interest…at least that was what the surface said. Yet, another part of me did point out that, were it anyone else, I wouldn't have cared at all about what Gri thought.

"Oh." I frowned. Gri flicked a glance.

"We seem to have the same problem." She muttered, shaking her head. I frowned.

"What does that mean?" I found myself genuinely curious. Gri snorted, jamming her sword into its sheath.

There was a unique sort of intensity to her eyes as they locked with mine. "What I mean, Lucina, Daughter of Sumia and Chrom, Princess of House Ylisse, is that neither of us can muster a good denial for what the insufferably smug Pegasus knight duo has pointed out."

I frowned. "Mother insufferably smug?" was the only thing I managed in reply. Gri snorted yet again. All the while, my mind whirled.

"Well, she wasn't insufferably smug, but yes, as smug as Sumia could be." Gri sighed. "And we are both dodging the point."

"Yes." I agreed with her, before sighing. I supposed we were dodging the subject she had raised. Then again, how could we not?

"It's…urgh." Gri groaned, rubbing her temples. "There are a million things that need to be done, and this is what my brain gets stuck on." I couldn't help but smile a little. She paused, before breaking into near hysterical laughter.

"You do know that you are not doing the claim of your sanity any good?" I pointed out. Gri snorted, coming down from her laughing fit after a moment.

"I've never claimed sanity." She replied, eyes growing distant. "My sanity is only by insanity should it exist." I frowned, deciding to leave that for a different day, preferably when Morgan was around to help me parse whatever that meant. "We need to sort this out, Lucina." I shuddered. The way my name rolled of her lips was almost magical.

"You have a point." I conceded. She laughed, not quite as manic, more of a soft chuckle this time. Still, no mirth pervaded the sound.

"Of course I do." The words were almost mocking, although not of me. A silence stretched between us, one I found myself unwilling to break.

"I expected a great many things when I made the choice to come back." Gri spoke at length, her eyes once more unfocused. "I planned on meeting you, yes. I planned enlisting your help. I planned on meeting Chrom, all of that." She snorted. "I planned for some many things, and I forgot to plan for the outlandish concept of myself forming personal relationships."

"It seems we are alike in that mistake." I agreed. And it was true. I hadn't expected how much seeing Father and Mother alive would affect me. And, as a direct result, what I planned to do.

"Heh." There was another pause. "So, where does this leave us?" She asked me. I frowned. Where did that leave us?

What were my feelings towards Gri, I had to wonder. Despite what I said only days ago, I did not blame her for what happened in the future. Even if the she had lied, and had willing been possessed, which I was doubting more and more, she expressed too much hatred for herself, too much…well, everything to be blamed any longer.

What did I feel about her? My feelings, I thought to myself, where a jumbled mess. On one hand, just listening to Gri say my name, my actual name, not the moniker that we often used when addressing each other, made me shiver. It was almost as though she could imbue magic into the very words she spoke.

I watched the emotion dance around her eyes. There were a great many of them, far more than I could dissect with my limited skill in reading people.

"I think," I replied at long last, "That it leaves up wherever we want to be." Gri's lips curled into a half smile. "We came back to stop God's that meddled in our lives, destroyed them."

"I knew there was something I liked about you." Gri chuckled. "I would argue that you came back to kill Gods the destroyed your life. I just came back to make sure you actually could."

I glared. Then again, based on what she had told me, I couldn't dispute the point that I was ill prepared to take down Grima. "I doubt that is the only reason you came back." I pointed out. Gri shrugged.

"It doesn't matter though, does it?" She shot back. I got the feeling there was something going on that she wasn't saying, although I had no idea how to pry it out of her.

"I disagree." Before we could start arguing, I brought the conversation back to its beginning. "Why did you bring this idea of Cordelia's up?" I knew the idea had originated with Cordelia. That was obvious. Gri shrugged.

"Consider Lucina." There it was again. That shiver as she spoke three syllables. "We are, for better or worse, mortal opposites." A quirk of her lips spoke of some irony I missed. "We were born servants of diametrically opposed gods; thrown into a war we couldn't comprehend until it was the only life we had." I winced. That was one way to look at the situation, I supposed, a bleak, miserable way, but it was one way to look at it. "We spent years fighting each other. Well, I was possessed but the point stands." This time, she gave a long suffering sigh. "The obstacles between us being anything more than passingly civil with each other are," She paused, "vast."

I had to concede that point. "And if we don't care?" I shot back. To my surprise, Gri's response wasn't laughter, or a mocking comment as I expected. Instead, she eyed me in a new light.

"Then, I suppose we are free to cast our fates as we wish." She replied, sounding the most uncertain I had ever heard from Gri. Her eyes glittered as they locked with mine. From the corner of my eye, I watched her hand slide down to her hip, where her Falchion rested.

Slow and precise, she drew the blade in a reverse grip. Sun caught along the well-honed edge, as Gri brought the weapon free of its entire sheath. Then, with the same care and precision, she brought her hand to her heart, the flat of her Falchion resting across her chest, from heart to hip, roughly.

"Lady Lucina." She bowed, just a bit. I knew the gesture. Oddly enough, it was Valmese, although I supposed that never stopped Gri before. In truth, it made sense that she would know it. Gri had always given an air of great education and knowledge, so borrowing very specific respectful gestures made sense.

I imitated the motion in precise measure, bowing a minute amount deeper, as a sign of equal or greater respect. Gri's eyes flashed, although I couldn't tell if that was the light, or something else.

"We should probably be making out way back to camp." I pointed out after a long silence. Gri didn't answer, her eyes keeping the same gleam. "Lest more people than just my mother decide we are…involved."

Gri gave slow nod, head tilting a few inches to the side, almost though she was weighing a choice.

"Yes, I suppose we should." She agreed. I felt the magic build in the air, before she extended her hand.

I took only a moment to consider the meaning of the gesture. On one hand, I suspected there were layers within layers of meaning, although what those might be I had no clue. However, I was willing to accept at least the gesture of friendship, or at least a promise to not be as horrible to me, for what it was.

I took her hand, our fingers grasping just lightly. I saw her lips move in a soundless invocation, and the world flashed white.

Her magic wrapped around me, snapping and tingling, worming in and under, seeming to take in every inch of me, not quite violation, and one I was more used to than I expected. Healing magic, even wards of Divine Nature, were not dissimilar to this. Then, the changes struck in, as the magic, having satisfied itself with me, became sharper, cutting; all I could focus on was the inlet of magic, pouring from Gri in waves, then, in a flash withdrawn.

A quick stock of the surroundings revealed the precise nature of Gri's teleportation; she had deposited us right outside my tent. Magical residue crackled between the fingers of her gloves, arching up my own fingers, the sensation never the less strange, despite how normal it had become in the future.

"Well, I see Sumia might have had a point after all." My Father's voice was dry, not mocking, more observing than anything else. Of all the people to walk up at this very moment, it had to be Father. I suppressed a groan, as Gri released my hand, turning to face him.

"And what does that mean?" Hardness bled into the words, walls coming up, and gates slammed shut as the Lady of Grima came into the fore, replacing Gri in an instant.

My Father just smirked. "Oh, Sumia seemed convinced there was something going on between you too." Chrom's words contained barely suppressed laughter. "I thought she was seeing things, or listening to Cordelia too much, but…." Frustration, the same as earlier danced about her expression, before being replaced by an expression I had seen in Morgan a few times in the past.

"In much the same fashion that nothing is going on between you and Sumia?" I blinked. True, Father and Mother were not together, but I hadn't considered how their relationship came to be. In the future Mother never spoke of it, so I had no clue how their relationship started.

Father flushed a bit, shaking his head. "No. There is nothing going on between Sumia and I!" He denied, to no avail. The future told me he was lying, but I knew his denial would fool no one. Gri, seeing weakness, proverbially pounced.

"Friends…is that what you call it?" The mirth in her eyes was obvious. "Friends…who spend a great deal of time naked…in each other's tents?" I blanched. That was an image I did not need. I had walked in on far too many people at inopportune times, but none the less, I didn't want to imagine my parents.

Father gapped, before turning on his heel, and veritably running away. Gri chuckled.

"Amazing." She muttered, although the tone was more fond than chiding. "To think that man runs away from a little teasing, yet in a years' time has the balls to face down an angry god without so much a flinch." She snorted.

"We both know people change." I pointed out. "Although I think in Father's case…it's more of a god is something tangible. He can stab a god. You can't exactly kill you over teasing him."

Gri shrugged. "He could. He's just to damn noble to actually do it." She retorted. "Now, I probably should go find Robin…before Chrom does." The last part was a mumble. I inclined my head, and Gri twisted on the spot, her lips forming that single word.

The flash of yellow white bore the woman away.

As she vanished, I released a long breath. That entire confrontation had been nerve wracking.

 **Tactician of Ylisse: Robin**

I had just finished packing up the last of my maps, and other papers, along with double checking my weapons and other gear when Chrom stepped into the tent. He seemed remarkably frazzled. I frowned, wondering what was up.

"Your duplicate," He groaned, "Is going to be the death of me." I frowned, an odd sense of trepidation worming it's way in. What had Gri done this time? That, I noted, wasn't fair. Saying this time implied that Gri regularly gave Chrom grief, which she did not. The only person who ever got any flack from the enigmatic woman was me, and if Cordelia was to be believed, Marth.

"What did she do?" Chrom dropped himself into one my bed, such that it was, and in the process sent a number of rolled maps sprawling, rendering half an hours work pointless. I considered complaining before deciding it wasn't worthwhile.

"I found her and Marth, standing there, almost like they'd just finished dancing or something," He waved a hand, "Just sort of lost staring at each other."

"In the same fashion that you and Sumia do?" To my surprise Chrom turned a very unflattering shade of red, and glared harder, as though this was something that had already been pointed out to him.

"You two are related. I just know it." He growled. "She started in on that exact same thing." I blinked. Gri, despite pushing Sumia to just be more confident in her interaction with Chrom had never struck me as someone who paid particular attention to the relationships of those around her. Although, if I was feeling morbid, I could see her playing matchmaker from the shadows, which was just a bit of a terrifying thought.

"Ah." No doubt, Gri was far less gentle in her teasing.

"Crazy woman." He shook his head, glaring at me, as though this was all my fault. "She apparently has it in her head that Sumia and I are…" he flushed even brighter. "We are….um…." There was a pause.

"You're sleeping together." I filled in. Chrom was a terrible liar. He and Sumia might not have been sleeping together in the fullest sense of the word, but they were getting to that point I knew. Not that either of them would admit it, to me or each other even.

"No!" Chrom waved his hands. "Well, yes that's what she thought, but no, we aren't." I made a note to subtly inquire of Sumia. And perhaps Cordelia. Those two seemed good friends, and perhaps if Sumia wasn't willing to talk, Cordelia would be.

"Of course you aren't." I replied, making sure to avoid sounding like I didn't believe him, that would be rude, the man had dealt with enough stuff all the time.

"You don't believe me." He pointed out, sounding more resigned than anything else about that fact. Well, no, I didn't, if only because I knew it wasn't true, having been one fo the people who convinced Sumia to…whatever the terms

"Gri doesn't rib people without reason, and further, she has seen all the same things I have." That was about as gentle as I could make things. "Although I suppose I haven't been distracted by the mysterious Marth half the time."

Chrom grunted, running a hand through his hair. "What is the deal with him anyway? He fights as a nobleman of Ylisse, and wields a Falchion." Chrom paused. "Although I don't consider the possibility of my Father having at least one bastard child running about farfetched, Marth seems about our age, and that wouldn't make sense."

I frowned. From what little I had learned about Chrom's Father, he had been many things, but unfaithful was not one of them. "Gri knows, whatever it is." I mused. "And she isn't going to talk." Chrom snorted.

"That woman scares me." He admitted after a moment. "She's too in control, all the time."

I started picking up the maps Chrom had knocked off when he sat down. "It isn't that she is control." I corrected after a moment. "The issue is that she is too perfect. Her story, her skills, all of it." I shrugged. "She has all the traits of a lair, but none of the tells." I laughed, shaking my head. "Now I sound like Fredrick." That drew a smile from Chrom.

"I don't blame you." He sighed. "Fredrick still doesn't trust her, and he trusts you, so I'd say something is up."

"I heard my name my Lord?" Fredrick poked his head into the tent. Chrom rolled his eyes.

"We are discussing Gri." He replied, not appearing bothered by the way Frederick seemed somewhat stalkerish in his occasional behavior.

The armored man frowned, stepping fully into the tent. I caught the change in his expression easily. "And what do you think of the matter Lady Robin?" As had become his custom, Fredrick gave me the noble title, as seemed to be becoming the norm amongst the group. Despite my best efforts, nothign

"That something isn't right." I replied, taking a moment to ensure my supplies were well packed. "Gri's story makes sense, and has no holes, but it's almost to perfect. A woman raised by the Grimeal, runs away, and just happens into our path?" I didn't bother to wait on Fredrick to agree with me. "That is putting aside the fact that you can just tell she is hiding something. I can't say what, but nothing she has told us is the whole truth. Something is always missing." Fredrick nodded.

"Then what do you two propose be done?" Chrom demanded. "Even if I wanted to force the information out of her, I can't." Obviously not. That display of Gri's power made it quite evident that she didn't have anyone present who could be considered her peer. "I'm afraid she'd kill me."

"I don't think she would." I replied, frowning. "She's only exhibited her magical skill against those Grimeal a few days ago, and that was exceptionally targeted. She took out the targets, and that was it." While Gri had made an incredible display recently, besides that

"I would suggest not risking it however." Fredrick pointed out. I inclined my head.

"Of course." I concurred, glancing out the tent flap. "We should continue this conversation on the road, as it is time for the Shepherds to break camp." The two men nodded, and departed from my tent, leaving me to ponder what had transpired.

 **FE:FDUL**

Only a few hours of daylight had passed when our strange group headed out. Our objective was a Fort in Southern Ylisse, and to warn the men there of possible Plegian attacks. From there, I planned to retrace my steps after first meeting Chrom on the way to the Capitol. IF all went well, I would once more be planning a war within the week.

"Thinking deep thoughts Lady Robin?" I jumped, realizing abruptly that I had perhaps been lax in my attention to my surroundings. Glancing to the side, I was slightly surprised to see Cordelia had landed next to me, and her Pegasus was walking alongside the horses at a sedate pace.

"Just planning ahead." I replied, before the form of address caught up with me. "Cordelia, why did you call me Lady Robin?" I asked, confusion finally bubbling to the surface, as yet another person addressed me thusly, despite my lack of understanding.

"The title seemed appropriate." She replied, although not meeting my eyes. I frowned, seeing the lie, and evasion for what it was.

"And the truth?" I pried, trying to be gentle about it. Cordelia bit the inside of her check, before replying.

"You saved my life, Lady Robin. That is worth of respect." The words were too forced, to rote, yet lacked all signs of a lie, or at least the ones I might have looked for.

"Ah." I frowned, wondering how to approach this. "You say that as if you wish I had not." I had seen hints of such a sentiment, from watching her, and from listening to Gri. Why Cordelia might feel this way escaped me.

Cordelia took a long time to answer. "It is not that I wish you did not," She replied at a quiet length, "Rather that I wish I wasn't the only one. That someone more equipped than I survived that…I don't even know what." I kept silent, not trusting myself to have the right words. "I'm the youngest, the _Perfect Princess,_ or the bitch depending on the day…" The details of the situation started to become clearer. Cordelia fell silent for a long time once more. "I'm sorry Lady Robin. You no doubt have better things to do than listen to me." I waved a hand.

"Nonsense." I replied firmly. "I can't think of anything more worthwhile to do." Cordelia's answering chuckle was a bit watery.

"Gri says the same thing." She mused.

I frowned. "Sometimes I swear the two of us are twins." Or at least, we apparently learned from the same people.

"It's possible." Cordelia shrugged a bit, hair swaying as a result. "I've never asked Gri." I waited, giving her time to compose her thoughts. "Or Marth." Cordelia's lips had an almost conspiratorial smirk upon them when I glanced her way. "I'd bet he would know."

That was an angle I hadn't considered. "So you are really convinced there is something going on between the two of them?" I asked, careful to school my tone into something that almost passed for neutral.

Cordelia nodded, leaning up to scratch her Pegasus's neck. "Oh yes." She gave a giggle, although it was forced. I had to admire that way she deflected the topic away from her near death experience. Had I been anyone else, I supposed I wouldn't have caught the deflection. "Have you seen the two them together?" I frowned, considering the answer.

"Once, and they were both far too interested in being scary than anything else." I thought back to that meeting with Emmeryn's advisors. Marth and Gri had reacted to each other with wariness, until faced with those advisors. Then, faced with a common foe, they had shifted, becoming almost a single entity, focused entirely on the goal of removing people they seemed to agree where problematic. Where one left off the other picked up.

"Meeting the Exalt's advisors right?" Cordelia asked. I inclined my head. Cordelia tossed her hair, anger flashing across her features. "I wish Chrom would just throw them out. They've done nothing good in years."

"Gri and Marth ran them off." I told her. "Well, threatened them with a painful death." Cordelia blinked, jaw dropping, before she caught herself.

"Marth did?" She sounded incredulous. I nodded.

"Marth threatened to out and out kill them." I confirmed, suppressing a shiver at the memory of how they had acted. "Gri followed up by informing them that if Marth didn't kill them, she'd send them to Grima's stomach." I paused. "At the time I thought she was bluffing. Now I'm not so sure."

Cordelia's eyes clouded for a moment, before she shrugged. "I've not seen her use as much magic as I suspect you have, so I'll leave that judgement to you." There was a pause. "You've seen Chrom and Sumia together though?" She redirected the conversation swiftly from the topic of Gri and company once again. I inclined my head.

"When they get lost staring at each other?" I confirmed. Cordelia nodded. "Marth and Gri do that?" She nodded again.

"Well, when they aren't threatening each other with death." She muttered. "Although they've gotten subtler about that." I blinked.

"Threatening each other with death." I repeated, wanting to make sure I had that right. Given how they interacted in the medical tent, I supposed that made sense, the caution to which they regarded each other did suggested a certain level of violence.

"Yup." Cordelia winced. "They were having a screaming match right in front of me." She paused, adopting the air of someone weighing the words they spoke. "I was afraid they would settle the issue with swords, really." That would have been less than ideal. While there was little direct way of determining Marth's skills, that fact that Gri respected his skills meant he was dangerous.

"And you are convinced they have some sort of romantic relationship." That rumor had been circulating throughout the camp over the past few days, and I had been less that convinced by the presented evidence, especially in light of recent revelations.

"It sounds crazy, but just watch them together sometime." The level of confidence from Cordelia was peculiar, and from what I knew of the other woman, she wouldn't seem sure without a good reason.

"I think I will." Although I wasn't sold on this theory of Cordelia's, observing Gri would at least help me to assuage the concerns of Chrom and Frederick, and even some of my own worries.

Cordelia nodded, before turning far more uncomfortable. "I hate to take more of your time Lady Robin, but I do have a request." She sounded much more hesitant speaking this time.

I tried to offer a friendly smile, although being half lost in thought I wasn't sure how successful I was. "Ask away."

"Gri says you can teach me how to do the protective runes like you two have in your cloaks?" She sounded hesitant. Having been only taught said rune a few days ago, why would Gri have recommended I teach her?

Opening my mouth to ask how she was going to cast the runes without Fell magic, before figuring Gri would have already thought of that, I replied. "I can, yes." I agreed. "It might take a while, since there is less space on armor than our cloaks, and I doubt you want one of these when flying."

Cordelia laughed. "I wouldn't mind, but I suspect Aurora here," She patted the flank of her mount, "Wouldn't like her wings hitting it constantly." The peagsus whinnied in what might have passed for agreement.

Nodding, I considered the runic arrays, pulsing a little magic into my cloak so as to refresh my memory. "It shouldn't be an issue. I'll hunt down Gri to make sure none of the compacting will adversely affect the wards, but it can definitely be done." Cordelia gave me what I was starting to suspect was a somewhat rare honest smile.

"Thank you Lady Robin." She straightened. "I probably should let Sumia take a break from patrol." Before I could open my mouth to point out it had only been Sumia's shift for less than half an hour, she was gone, only a few feathers remaining where the Pegasus had been.

Watching the more, outwardly at least, self-assured Pegasus Knight fly off, I had to wonder what was going on. Cordelia seemed all over the board, from barely able to keep from balling, to self-confident, to meek. I frowned. In some respects, I realized, Cordelia was taking lessons, perhaps unintentionally from Gri: Cordelia used a lot of the same tricks Gri did to hide her emotions, and to redirect conversations, however Gri was exceptionally more skilled in that respect.

"What's got your attention this time?" Chrom brought his horse to stand beside my own. I glanced in his direction, wondering if it was worthwhile to share my suspicions about Gri with him. On one hand, Chrom tended to give people the benefit of the doubt, which I couldn't fault him for, but my thoughts were only vague unfounded, to this point suspicions better left to Fredrick.

"Planning." I replied. Chrom rolled his eyes, expression lightly teasing. "I plan so you don't have to." I pointed out, getting a shrug in reply.

"All you ever do is plan Robin." I could tell he was…mostly, teasing. I glared halfheartedly, smiling enough to take any sting out of things. "I suppose I at least get my money's worth."

"And the better for it." I shot back. Chrom nodded, before growing serious.

"What do you make of this war?" Typical Chrom, blunt and to the point.

"It's hard to say." After a moment, I continued. "Gangrel hasn't made many overt gestures yet, although his slaughter of most of Emmeryn's guards suggests that his threats are serious." I paused. "Which means that more is coming." Tapping my saddle, I paused to consider. "My best working guess is that within a week a wall of screaming Plegian soldiers to come over the border hungry for blood."

"Cheery." Chrom muttered. Perhaps a statement of the obvious, but considering

"I suspect Gangrel is gathering his army at the moment, riling up the citizenry to the point that even if we launched a preemptive strike, his people will oppose us to the bitter end." I pushed a lock of my hair back behind my left ear. "It stands to reason that Gangrel for all his insanity has this well planned out, and is going to do his best to set Ylisse up for failure at every turn."

Chrom snorted, give me a half smirk. "Good thing we have you then."

For a long time, I didn't answer. Chrom's confidence wasn't nearly as infectious today as it often was, perhaps because I understood the reality of the situation better. To fight Gangrel would require a combination of luck, tactics, and knowledge that I simply lacked. Hell, I wasn't confident Gri would be able to pull it off, with her vast wealth of knowledge and power. "I appreciate the confidence." I told Chrom at last. He nodded, reaching over to place his hand on my shoulder.

"We all trust you Robin." He met my eyes. "Even Fredrick." I cracked a wan smile at that. Chrom leaned back, shifting in his saddle. "Now…any advice on how to pry information out of Marth?"

I couldn't help but laugh.

 **Lady of Naga: Lucina**

The observation that the Shepherds made a bit of a motely band, riding down the twisting roads towards the southern Coast of Ylisse would have been cause for great amusement, except for the fact that I knew my companions would have conveyed a similar appearance. For the most part, my temporary companions gave me a wide berth, either understand I wished to be left alone, or terrified of the rumors that swirled. From the corner of my eye, I could see Gri got an equally wide berth, although I suspected that was by request, or genuine reputation. On occasion someone would move as if to guide their horse alongside my own, before changing their mind. In truth, this didn't bother me too much. Attachments to these people would only hinder me at the moment.

"Thinking deep thoughts as well?" Father's voice made me jump. Lost in my thoughts, I had no heard or seen him draw alongside, something I chided myself for. Even now, in times of relative peace, I could not let my guard down.

"Of a sort." I replied, taking care to ensure my voice was neutral. I must not show emotion, especially around Father. To show emotions where he was concerned could be disastrous, as our interaction with Cordelia had already shown.

Father chuckled. "Seems to be a trend amongst company I keep." I spared him a slight glance, having to turn my head a bit more than usual on account of my mask. While the disguise was needed, the ornament was a major pain.

"Oh?" I inquired, genuinely curious. Gri was lost in thought, but that, I suspected was Mother and Cordelia's fault, as she tried to understand why they believe. None of the other Shepherds appeared too distracted by thoughts. Father nodded.

"You haven't been around long enough to really notice, but for out little procession to be this quiet is most unusual. Normally Vaike would be boasting, and Maribelle chewing him up one side and down the other, Lissa would be playing a prank on someone, Virion womanizing, and so on." I frowned. The group was indeed quiet, but I hadn't realized the calm was so unnatural. "Even Robin is normally more vocal than this." His glance towards Gri suggested she was the oddity.

"Ah." I shrugged. "I confess; I hadn't realized this was unusual." Father shrugged.

"Given you just joined up, that makes sense." Father shook his head. "Especially since you aren't as prone to antics as some of the others."

"I will choose to believe that is a complement." In truth, I was unsure what to make of that remark. Father didn't mean anything by it, I suspected, but none the less, I found myself reading into the words. Did he mean that I was simply more reserved, or something else.

"Trust me, it is." Father ruefully laughed. "The Shepherds are elite soldiers, but not always sane." He didn't seem overly upset, and I chose not to comment, knowing the Gri, and Morgan would have my head for hypocrisy. None of their children had been any saner, although I knew we had a far better excuse for our mental instability.

"Hm." I chose to not provide more response than that. No need to risk anyone else accidentally finding out that I wasn't who I claimed.

"I never did get to thank you for saving Lissa's life that night." Father pointed out. I waved a hand, .

"It is no issue." I replied. "I have seen firsthand the horrors those monsters are capable of, and I will aid those beset by them." And that was true. Having stood beside Brady with Falchion and ended those who he could not prevent from turning, I had attained a sheer hatred of the Risen, as Father named them, which was only dwarfed by my desire to put Grima in the dirt.

"Still, you saved my sisters life." Father repeated, his voice firm. "We owe you a debt." I wanted to groan. Damn my Father for being like me. Or would that be me like him? I gave up, and did groan; time travel seemed to be more problematic than initially believed.

"You owe me nothing. I do not wish you to owe me a debt, Chrom." It was a conscious effort to call him by his name instead of Father, and one I suspected would never become easier. Not for the first time, I found myself regretting the choice to stay with the Shepherds, even for a short while.

"If you insist." Father seemed unconvinced. "Debt or not, your timely intervention was much appreciated." His lips quirked. "Watching Fredrick stew over who you were after your disappearance was amusing as well." I cracked a slight smile at that.

"I'm glad to amuse." Seemed to be the only reasonable thing to say. Father chuckled, shaking his head.

"Indeed. Seeing Gri fume was amusing as well, when we got over the shock of seeing her back."

"What do you mean?" I got the feeling this conversation was leading somewhere, although where I could not say. As Severa loved to point out manipulation was not a strong suite of mine, and I suspected it was not Father's either.

"When she teleported, or whatever it was she does after you, we all figured she'd wring you for answers, then just vanish. She had to that point expressed no interest in staying with us, beyond sleeping in our camp, and sharing a meal with us until that point." Father shrugged. "Granted, we knew nothing about her, and still don't, but none the less."

"She does appear to value her secrets." I agreed, risking a slight glance over at the Lady of Grima, and pushing down a discomfited expression. Gri positively radiated coldness, from her stiff posture, to the severe glare fixed upon her face, an expression familiar.

"That she does." Father sighed. "She's opened up a small amount since then, at least about her magical skill, but almost anything else she keeps under wraps."

"I am not surprised." I pondered how best to answer. "I know precious little of the Cult of Grima, what you know as the Grimeal, but what I do know has always suggested them to be a brutal people, even to children. I suspect she has locked away those memories for the sake of her sanity." Father nodded, his expression surprisingly relaxed. Some small information about the Lady of Grima wouldn't hurt to give out.

"Robin agrees with you on that count, as does her own story, at least what she told us that first night." Father shrugged.

"She hasn't opened up more since then?" I asked, genuinely curious to learn more about the woman who for years had been the face of my mortal enemy. Father shook his head.

"No. I know she's teaching Robin bits of magic, and I think she is teaching Cordelia as well, but by and large she keeps to herself, downplays any part she plays in, well anything, and tries to remain unobtrusive, despite having a commanding presence."

"Interesting." I mused aloud. That Gri tried not to draw attention to herself made sense. Although she was better at hiding herself than I, she none the less didn't want to reveal that she had traveled time.

"Oh?" Father seemed just a little too interested. I suspected something was up, although exactly what I wasn't sure.

"I know little enough about her," I began, considering how much to tell from the little information I possessed, "Beyond her prodigious magical skill, and that she was born a Grimeal." I shifted, feeling uncomfortable being put on the spot. "Her grasp of Fell magic is frightening, and I believe is what drives the runes on her cloak, which if rumor is to be believed, act as some variety of protection." I shrugged. "Beyond that, I have little to share."

"Damn." Father sighed. "Given how she is at least somewhat more familiar with you than the rest of us, I had hoped that you could at least shed some light upon her." I clamped down on a desire to flinch. Familiarity was not the term I would have used but from the perspective Father had, it made sense.

"My apologies." I told him. Father shrugged, waving a hand.

"No worries." He was far too easy going, I thought to myself, but there was no reason to assume anything untoward. "Just indulging my curiosity." I frowned. Something was still off about this entire thing, but I could no figure out what it was. Perhaps I was being paranoid, or found natural curiosity about dangerous things frustrating.

"Hm." I shrugged the issue off, seeing no reason to push for anything.

"I do have to ask, if only to get Sumia off my back," Father began. I resisted the urge to plant my face in my horse's saddle. This just had to come up. "What is going on between the two of you?"

"I gather you are going to refuse to believe me when I say nothing." I shot back, my tone dry. Father's lips quirked, eyes dancing in the wan light.

"Yup." He flashed a half-hearted grin. "As was pointed out to me, I get the same way, so I have no grounds to deny there is something up between you two."

For a long time, I was struck by the sheer oddity of the conversation. Here I was, being grilled by my Father, who was, for all intents and purposes, my own age, about someone I was purported to be in a romantic relationship with. Never mind the fact he didn't know I was female, or that the woman I was supposed to be involved with had, until only weeks ago been my arch-enemy. Not, again that he knew those bits. Never further mind that fact that he was referring, if slightly obtusely, to having sex with my mother. I closed my eyes, and tried to will the conversation over.

"I see." I kept my voice neutral. As much as I wanted to, I forced myself not to look in Gri's direction. That would just be taken as a confirmation of this harebrained theory, and make more of a mess.

"That is not an answer." He pointed out the obvious. I resisted the urge to snap back, instead taking a deep breath, and keeping silent. "Or, I suppose it might be." I glanced over at Father, wondering what that meant. "Robin has a point; silence is an answer."

"What?" I shook my head. Robin? Father nodded, before sighing. His tactician. The woman who had rendering herself unconscious using Divine magic. She was even in one this insinuation.

"Yes. She asked me if something was going on between Sumia and I, and my response was silence. Robin then spent thirty minutes started laughing, and giving me grief." He shook his head.

"I shall make a point to avoid Lady Robin then." I replied, keeping my voice neutral. Chrom snorted, seeming to take my statement in jest, as opposed to the relatively serious remark that it actually was.

"That won't help you. She isn't convinced that there is anything going on, but in the short time I have known her, I've learned that Robin does find out things, even when you think all your tracks are covered." Father blushed. I blanched. I didn't even need to think about that, ever.

"I see." I muttered, shaking my head. Not a good sign.

"Chrom, what has you impersonating a lobster." The controlled amusement in Gri's voice filtered easily enough across the low rumble of the marching group. I twitched, and sighed. Wonderful. Caught between Father and the Lady of Grima.

"N-Nothing." Father replied. Gri's snort was audible, although I could not see her.

"You're a terrible liar." She shot back. Father blinked. "I'm going to guess something has you thinking about what you spent last night doing." Gri's tone was conversational, but turned Father as ever brighter red. This was not something I wanted to know about, for Naga's sake.

"No." He did not stutter, to his credit. Gri snorted.

"Of course not." Her tone was just the correct blend of assurance and disbelief. I shuddered. Morgan was capable of that exact same feat. Father caved just as Cynthia always did, shaking his head.

"Is that important?" He demanded. I shrugged.

"It is amusing." I conceded, against my better judgment. "Is there something you need Lady Gri?" I hoped to refocus the conversation away from me.

"Not particularly. Teasing Chrom is always a pleasant distraction." She replied, appearing to be willing to play along. "Also, Robin wants to know where the best place to stop for the night will be." I saw Father's nodded, and he slowed his horse, falling out of step with my own, no doubt to confer with Robin in the back of the group.

"Clever." I mumbled, glancing at Gri.

I caught a slight shrug. "More of acting on an ever growing suspicion. If Chrom shows up tomorrow growling at me, I'll know I was wrong." She replied, tone clipped.

I frowned. What sort of suspicion was this? Something to do with Robin obviously.

Electing to put Gri's thoughts out of mind, I glanced skywards, just as Mother dropped down, the wings on her Pegasus snapping shut at the last moment to avoid clipping me in the head. I blinked, refusing to so much as flinch. Cynthia's mount was much the same way.

"Hello Lady Sumia." I spoke as the dust from her landing settled. I hoped she would be the last person to bother me today, as the mental strain of being Marth was starting to show.

"Marth." Mother's smile was soft, and caring, just as she always had been. "Lady Gri." I blinked in surprise at the specific form of address.

"What did I tell you about that Sumia?" Gri's protest seemed more token than effectual.

"Not too." Mother's reply was immediate. Gri rolled her eyes, nudging her horse.

"I'll leave you to interrogate Marth then." I caught the amusement in her voice, and glared.

"Traitor." I hissed. Gri just cackled, leading her horse away.

 **Lady of Grima: Gri**

I supposed I should have felt bad, leaving Lucina to be interrogated by her unsuspecting Mother, but I had bigger fish to fry at the moment. The Shepherds as always parted to give me a path as I lead my horse to the front of our little convoy.

Closing my eyes, I focused inwards, letting my magic, and thus Mage Sight bubble toe the surface. Snapping my eyes open, I winced at the overwhelming wash of color that the world was portrayed in.

"Grima, attend me." I muttered, opening the gates and allowing Fell magic to flood my system with ice. The ritualistic invocation was not strictly required but it helped to keep my thoughts separate from the rest.

The color of the world faded as my Mage sight reacted to the new magic, casting the previously vibrant landscape in shades of white and grey. Turning my head, I looked over the Shepherds. Sumia was Lucina stood side by side, both cast in shinning white.

The Divine Magic of Naga pulsed around them both, which made sense, Lucina with her Falchion, and Sumia always had a pure soul. Further back in the column, a pillar of black stood side by side with a pillar of white. Chrom and Robin, I knew at once.

Circling in the sky in front of the convoy, by contrast was Cordelia. Her aura was a deep grey, flecked with spots of black, one I was more used to seeing on the rank and file of the Grimeal. Tainted, but not irredeemably so.

I scowled. I had hoped that observing her under Mage Sight would at least shed some degree of light on the fact that Cordelia could use Fell Magic, but instead I had more questions than answers. While the ability to call Grima's power was not as uncommon as some ranking Grimeal might have liked to believe, it tended to require some kind of trigger to unlock. In my case, nearly being assassinated in my sleep at the age of 6 months, if my _father_ was to be believed.

In truth, most Grimeal children gained access to Grima's power in such a fashion. Parents committed horrible acts in Grima's name, which, in a twisted way, kept the Grimeal's numbers from rising.

"Gri." Robin's voice made me jump. My head snapped to the side, and I had to push down an urge to cringe as I found myself staring into a void where Robin was. Frowning, and wondering just how long I was lost in thought, I released the Fell Magic, and allowed my Sight to fade.

"Yes?" I asked, my tone neutral. Or at least as neutral as I could make it. Robin was scowling, a variety of scowl I knew did not arise from anger, rather confusion.

"How did Chrom arrive exactly as I was about to send for him to ask where the best place to camp for the night would be?" Her question was pointed, and I had the growing suspicion that I would not be able to weasel my way out of this situation.

"Why are you asking me?" Show nothing, I reminded myself. The best I could do was stall, and I knew it, so I would stall as long as I could.

"Because, he said you sent him to look for me." Robin's tone was level, her gaze shifting ahead. I cocked my head to the side. "I find it interesting," she began, "That you would know exactly when to suggest that he come find me to answer such a question, especially since you haven't spoken to me at all today."

"Hm." I didn't answer. Let Robin draw her own conclusions. I had resigned myself to the fact that Robin and I were identical; that I was the logical conclusion of one possible path of her life. Let her come to that conclusion on her own time however.

Robin made a small growl. "You don't have anything to say about that do you?" I frowned. Grima damnit.

"Incorrect." I fixed my eyes upon the horizon. "There is plenty I could say." I knew that would get the gears in Robin's head turning. I hoped it would buy me a minute to figure out to spin this explanation such that when the truth came out, I wasn't selling myself up a creek, but Robin wouldn't suspect any lie.

"I see." Robin's glare was painful. The acid in her tone was growing by the second. "Let me take a guess." Although I was prepared for vitriol the level of it remained impressive. "You and I are identical. Looks, cloaks, choice of spells, all that." Robin waved a hand. "I chose the exact same phrase to active Fell Magic that you use without any sort of prompting, or knowledge." Her lips curled in distaste. "I can ignore the fact that we might as well be identical Gri." Well then. That cinched it.

"You are correct." I inclined my head, making the decision that if nothing else, it would make sense for me to at least get some basic facts on the table. "In any other situation I would suggest we were identical twins." Now. How to avoid giving away information?

"And what about this situation makes you believe otherwise?" Robin's question was soft, although I heard the emotion boiling behind it easily.

"Aside from the fact I have no memory of having a twin, not much." I sighed, rubbing my temples, hoping the lie I was about to weave was convincing. Well, it wasn't even a lie. Just a misrepresentation of the fact. "Although it's not uncommon for Grimeal to separate twins, if they are born." I frowned. "However, the fact of the matter is that we are, in point of fact, visually identical as well, I would remember meeting someone who looked exactly as I do. Further, our styles of fighting are night identical, and I sincerely doubt that anyone besides those who trained me would produce it."

Robin inclined her head. "That is true." She rubbed her own temples. "If only I could remember." I waved a hand, a spike of relief at the fact her amnesia gave an easy out.

"Don't let it bother you overmuch." I advised. My lips quirked upwards at the corners. "Take from someone who knows exactly how you think, stewing on it will only drive you nuts." Perhaps heavy handed, but needed.

Robin gave a slight nod, before glancing at me. "I'm guessing you have a possible explanation though don't you?" In Grima's name, she really was me. I had to leave, before she puzzled out more of the situation than she already had.

"Yes." I sighed. "I do not recall if I spoke much of the circumstances leading up to my birth when we first met." Without waiting for her response I forged ahead. "The Grimeal are always on the hunt for people who could be the vessel of Grima, when and if he is reincarnated. I was the product of one such effort. It is entirely possible that you were the result of a separate one."

"That doesn't explain all of it." Robin pointed out. "Including the fact that our personality is identical, and the million other identical traits we exhibit."

"Agreed." I shrugged. "I suspect that, when it gets right down to it, we will never know." Robin sighed. I waved a hand. "You at least have the comfort of not having to ever remember, if we are right."

Robin flinched, a small amount. "Sorry." It was almost reflexive, the apology. That, at least, was something different between us. A shred of human goodness left inside of Robin, that whatever Validar might have done to her hadn't quite killed her inside just yet.

"I've long since become immune to my memories." I replied, knowing what she apologizing for. I had made few mentions of my past, although they were enough to give anyone with the sort of eye for detail Robin had a clue.

For her part, the woman who, is nothing were to be done would become me snorted. "Those are the sort of memories that one never becomes immune too." I hmmed in agreement. "If you remember anything, can you tell me?" Robin's request was quiet, showing a degree of vulnerability that I had not expected from her.

"Of course." And I would tell her everything, just not now. When the time was right. Or so I told myself. Robin looked at me closely, her eyes narrowed. I resisted the urge to flinch under what amounted to my own scrutiny.

"You love your secrets." She muttered, almost amused.

"Oh?" I took the chance to fish for what knowledge she had.

Robin's gaze tracked across the horizon, before coming back to focus on me. "You and Marth have some secret the two of you don't share with anyone else. You don't speak of it between yourselves, although it colors ever bit of interaction between the two of you." That line enough was terrifying. "Cordelia has convinced Sumia that you two are romantically involved, which on the surface makes sense, until one accounts for the fact that the two of you interact as though you are terrified of each other."

"What?" The question, laced with incredulous amazement leaked out before I regained control of myself. How in Grima's name had Robin figured all this out?

"I first noticed when the two of you confronted Emmeryn's advisors. Your stances expressed deference to each other, while indicating you viewed one another as a threat. Both of you were able to draw and interpose your swords in an instant." She paused, considering. "Your expressions suggest wary sort of respect, as though you hold each other in high esteem, yet at willing to try and kill one another." Her lips quirked. "Until you decide something or someone is a threat. Then it almost seems as though you are two halves of a whole."

The way we threatened the nobleman came to mind. I gave an internal wince. Damnit. Of course Robin would see all that. "I see." I replied, doing my best to keep my voice level, already knowing that it was futile. Robin was some version of me, younger, calmer, less twisted, but still me. She wouldn't be saying this, wouldn't have brought it up, unless she was confirming the conclusion she had drawn already.

"It's frightening, really." Robin admitted. "Because there doesn't seem to be a reasoning for anything related to the pair of you." Her armor rattled a bit when she shrugged. "Marth is perhaps more confusing than you are though."

I let out a long sigh, sending a rare bit of thanks to Naga for that fact. Lucina had much more to lose in this situation than I. "Marth is an enigma even to me." I replied with a half-truth. To some degree, I knew Lucina as I knew myself. Years of being trapped in Grima as they had fought gave me plenty of time to analyze the girl, no young woman.

Images of another woman, face streaked with blood and tears, pink hair matted with blood staring up at me, lips forming those fateful words flashed behind my eyes. With ruthless efficiency, I stomped the memory down. This was not the time to remember that.

"That, is a bizarre consolation." Robin groaned, rubbing her temples again. "I don't regret Chrom's offer, but sometimes I wish he'd be a little more discerning in who he allows to join. Save me on headaches."

Letting a wry chuckle escape, I couldn't resist taking a jab at Robin. "Want to be rid of Marth and I?"

"No." Her reply was immediate. "I want to be rid of your secrets." Robin tugged at the reins of her horse, guiding it back into the ranks of Shepherds.

Watching her go, I couldn't shake the feeling I had somehow disappointed myself.

 **A/N: So….right. this is way super late (and my gasp of English is failing, it's 10:30 pm, I've been doing nothing but editing this, and DnD today, so words are…failing). I blame the fact that, each individual POV bit here is pretty craptastic, and holy hell did this require a lot of editing. As in, I think the first third is about 50% new material from the editing pass, the after that it's down to about a third, but that's a really high percentage for this story. Hence, you get a massive update, that serves as a sort of interlude between 'arcs' of the story if you will. They'll probably be another one of these after Gangrel bites the bullet (spoilers I know). Regular updates resume next week (probably, since this one is a bit out of order, you might have to wait a while longer, I haven't started editing the next chapter yet), in a fountain of blood, and Grimeal guts, but this seems like a nicer thing to do, than make you guys sit through over a month of bland, 2500-word character moments. Well, they aren't bland. They're all important, they wouldn't be here if they weren't, but if that's all I've giving you for months at a time, that'd be pretty lame. So, this was what I settled on. Think of it a bit like extended supports, or something. Or like your author just couldn't figure out what to do with himself, and hid in a whole trying to decide what to do before settling on this.**

 **After Aura yelled at me. Which I kinda deserved, because I was himming and hawing about what to do, instead of just doing it. So, you guys get a Petal's length chapter this time(that one is giving me evne more hell than this one, to edit if that's possible(please send help)). Please do not expect these, this story is not set up for them…and I'm already doing it for the other story. I might cry. Correction. I will cry. I am crying. and going to bed.**

 **Reviews, questions, concerns, all the good stuff are appreciated. Standard disclaimers that I occasionally remember, and all that jazz.**


	17. Chapter Fifteen: First Strike

**Chapter Fifteen: First Strike**

 **Lady of Naga: Lucina**

The rocking of the boat was unsettling, despite the relatively calm seas. At least, I was told the sea was calm, never having sailed for any sort of distance myself, it was hard to say. The few times we had traveled to Valm in the future, Naga had simply teleported the entire group without seeming to expend a lick of effort, time having been of the essence.

"You look rather unwell." Gri's voice was soft, intending, I suspected to not draw attention, probably less from any degree of courtesy, and more from the perspective of wanting to keep any relationship between us as mysterious as possible. My grunt, and halfhearted glare seemed to convey the intended message, if the flicker of surprise on the Lady of Grima's face was any indication. "Have you tried channeling Falchion's magic?" Stepping closer, her voice dropped further, only just audible by the slimmest of margins.

"Yes." Bile chased the words up, and I swallowed hard. Under any other circumstance, the Falchion's innate power was a healing and strengthening torch. Yet, by some cosmic irony, seasickness was exempted from the effects of such magic; I had overhead Aunt Lissa talking about over mealtimes. "And I will not do so again while on a seafaring vessel."

"Hm." Gri leaned over the railing by the side, her eyes dim, despite a rising sun. "Unusual." I frowned, hoping to voice my question without words. "This is the first time I have seen the effects of our godly magic differ.".

"Fell magic is keeping you from getting seasick?" I wanted to scream. Why couldn't Naga grant such a simple boon as alleviating seasickness? Wouldn't having a seasick champion be problematic if, for example, we were attacked by pirates?

"More that I can expend magic to push the effects back." Gri's lips curled in amusement. "I will feel the effects of being seasick not long after we make landfall I imagine." She carried on. "I would have thought that the Falchion would be more kind to you." I saw her glance down at her own hip, where I knew her own copy of the blade rested. "Such a fickle goddess, Naga." I strained to pick the words up over the low rumble of waves.

I couldn't trust myself to speak. Saying more than a few words invited the possibility of throwing up much more than I would have liked. This was not the first time Gri had made such a remark however, when I got past the instinctive urge to counter the words, I had to admit the Lady of Grima had a point.

"We should be making landfall soon, if that provides you any measure of consolation." A wordless nod was my only acknowledgement. Sooner the better. Being weak was not a feeling I enjoyed, especially in the presence of my erstwhile enemy.

The time to landfall could not pass swift enough, and when we arrived at the docks, I was the first person off the ship.

Perhaps to further reinforce the humiliation, the moment my feet touched dry earth, the pains in my stomach eased, the urge to vomit passing, at the same time, even though the leather scabbard, Falchion began to warm against my leg. Glancing towards the blade, I could feel my heart start to pick up. Something, or someone was here.

"What on earth?" Glancing to the side, I could see Father standing, eyes widening at the glow pulsing from his own Falchion. Mother was the one who had spoken however. "C-Chrom?" Father shook his head, evidently unsure what was happening either.

"I have no idea." I had no doubt of the honest of his swift reply. Current events had yet to bring to pass events that would have caused such reactions from the Divine weapon. "The blade has never glowed like this, not even in the heat of battle against Risen."

"There are Fell Mages here." Gri's voice was sharp and decisive, all traces of lethargy gone, the faint swirl of magic building, no doubt giving her some sense of what was going on nearby. That, or knowledge from the future.

"Seven of them." Robin picked up the thread, her own tone gaining a measure of steel. I glanced in her direction, shuddering as our eyes met. The Mage Sight was an ability that few used because the sensory input was overwhelming, seeing the magic of the world in its purest state. Robin showed no sign of discomfort as her eyes sparkled unearthly colors. "Powerful ones." Her eyes faded to grey once more, no doubt an effort to conserve energy prior to a battle.

"Blast." Father ran a hand through his hair. "I was hoping we'd gotten here first." Everyone had hoped we arrived first. Going up against entrenched Grimeal was never a pleasant experience. "Robin, we're going to need to plan." The other purple haired woman frowned, but nodded sharply.

Falchion pulsed with excess magic, the metalline surface of the blade near scorching, even threw the leather scabbard. I allowed my hand to rest upon the pommel of the blade, as Gri caught my eyes. Narrowed just a bit, her eyes swam with magical power, in a manner that reminded me strongly of Morgan. Her eyes two would seem to twirl when in the grip of powerful magic. Shaking that thought off, comparisons between Gri and Morgan were best made after a battle, I took a deep breath, trying to still my rising heartbeat. There was no need to become worked up now, when the battle was not yet ot be joined.

"Sumia, Cordelia, I need a better numbers estimate. Everyone else, top of that hill." Robin pointed to a hill in a short distance away, the commanding tone carrying about the group with ease. In an instant, the near comedic nature of the Shepherds was lost, replaced by the expressions of soldiers going to battle. No smiles, or laughs, or jibes. Instead, eyes narrowed, lips thinned, fingers gripped the hafts of spears ever tighter. Following close behind, I could feel some of my fears ebb away at the sight. Perhaps they were more prepared for the coming war than I had hoped.

Robin's first move was a good one. I was no tactical genius, but living with Morgan for so long had given me some understanding of planning for a battle, and taking high ground was always a solid first step. With a swoosh, Mother and Cordelia soared overhead, vanishing into the rising banks of fog and low handing clouds.

We crested the hill, and Robin set about established a defensive position as best she could with the natural cover, there not being enough time to dig in some kind of defenses, and no known magic that could shape the earth beneath our feet. Father paced back and forth behind Robin, glancing into the skies every few moments, as though searching for someone. I positioned myself behind a large rock at the edge of the circle Robin was creating, content to wait for more information. Changing headlong into Grima's religious zealots was a death sentence after all. After exchanging brief words with Robin, Gri joined me behind the boulder, wordlessly glaring into the mists.

"They are returning." Gri's voice carried across the small hilltop with ease, some minutes later. Robin gave a sharp nod, while Father released an explosive breath, possibly one of relief. My grip on Falchion lessened a bit as Mother dropped into view, wadded tension in my shoulders falling away. "There is someone else with them." The observation was softer, Gri's eye's narrowing in confusion.

"Someone is with them?" Father's head snapped around, eyes locking onto the Lady of Grima. "An enemy?"

"I cannot say. Mage Sight is not that precise. Whoever it is has little magic to his or her name however, Cordelia and Sumia's auras drown them out quite well." The Lady of Grima shrugged. Despite her words, I noticed that her left palm all of glowed with magical fire. My hand shifted downwards, gripping Falchion tighter.

Father grunted.

Showing none of its usual grace, Mother's mount touched down, Cordelia following a moment later. Both Pegasus Riders dismounted, and the reason for Mother's awkward landing became apparent. Sitting behind Mother had been was a young man wearing something that seemed quite like a cooking pot upon his head. While some of the makeshift armor I had seen people wear in the future had been more useful than a pot, I had seen plenty of less useful things.

"Who's the new arrival?" Robin's voice was conversational, but I could see the subtle gathering of magic around her palm, hidden from view of the new person by her cloak, just as the drawing of Gri's sword was hidden by my own body.

"Name's Donnel!" He was only a boy, probably younger than any of my companions. Seeming a bit green, he dropped to the ground. "Err…no offense, but I think I'll stick to walkin' next time?" Giving his head a hand shake, he propped himself up on a bit of makeshift spear that I hadn't noticed to this point.

Mother giggled a bit. "Donnel is from the village on this island." She explained, probably having noticed the subtle hostility everyone paying attention was radiating. "They've been spared the Plegian interest for the most part but it's only a matter of time until they turn their attention that way."

"They're gonna starve us out." The boy shook his head, face twisting in disgust. "Killing game, torching crops." He threw a nasty glare into the woods. "Just monstrous."

"Scum." I growled. Scorched earth warfare was a masterpiece of the Grimeal, employed to devastating effect when pockets of resistance had held on, and it wasn't deemed important enough to let Validar loose, or Grima to put in a personal appearance.

"Robin?" Father's voice was cold. I glanced in his direction, and had to suppress a shiver. Everything I had heard of my Father always described him as calm, and never wrathful. Yet, cold fury dripped from every bit of Father's stance.

"Give me a second." Robin's eyes closed. "How many of them are there?" She asked, seeming to throw the question towards Donnel.

"Fifty some." Donnel supplied. "And a few with funky cloaks, and not wearing much for clothin'." The boy shook his head. "Darn strange."

"At least that many." Mother agreed. "Maybe more, as the fog makes it hard to spot them, along with the ruins and forest on this little island." Cordelia nodded.

"Most of them are wielding axes, but there is a fair number of mages." The red headed woman added. I shivered, noticing a cold smile spreading across Gri's face. That smile reminded me far too much of the Grima, dripping with the lust for combat.

"They are headed this way." Both purple haired women mumbled, before trading a sharp stare, and nod.

Chuckling in a manner just a bit dark, Robin started rattling off orders. To my surprise, Donnel insisted on joining the fight, and Father eventually relented, something that seemed to be helped by the fact we only had a few moment before the Plegian's arrived.

"Hehehe…." Gri's low rasping laugh set my nerves on edge. At first, Robin's place seemed destined to fail, and, indeed, where it not for my exposure to Morgan, and her tendency to make plans that were just as insane, I would have protested.

Gri's rasping chuckles radiated the sort of malevolent glee that only the Dark Dragon himself could imitate, as she surveyed the soon to be battlefield. Her magic pulsed, pushing against me, yet, lacking any of the underpinnings of Grima, or his deathly magic.

"Can you stop?" It was a low hiss, to quiet for the others to hear. Although I didn't feel any Fell magic, my nerves were on edge and her laughter wasn't helping. Our eyes met, shards of magic accenting the anticipation of battle, which combined with the harsh set of her features lent the woman a terrible gaze.

"Shall we dance Lady of Naga?" Silken, the words rolled from her tongue, each laden with its own magic, the sort of unconscious display of power that had become so commonplace in the future. The Lady of Grima, the physical manifestation of his will upon the world. A subtle tug on my senses, darkness pooling out of her sleeves, forming into the distinctive form of a blade. For a moment, Falchion lashed out, flaring with light, before fading out, at a furious mental jab.

Robin's question to Gri when listing off the plan sprang to mind. _I think Plegia needs an introduction to their allies' god, no?_ I hadn't considered what that meant, until this moment. A taste of their allies' god. To face a Fell Mage in combat, to see exactly what the most powerful Grimeal sorcerers were capable of doing, and if that meant Gri had to call upon her own dark powers, I had no doubt the woman would do so. Morgan had said something very similar at one point, before delving into the secrets of the Grimeal herself.

In her eyes, there also lurked something else, beneath the magic, the bloodlust. Rational core of Gri, asking a very different question. For a moment, the instinctive, biting response rose to the surface. My lips were already forming the words, before I quashed it, knowing that sentiments behind the words wouldn't even ring true.

"Yes we shall." Three words, stumbling as left my lips. A tacit admission, in a roundabout way. Shifting my attention to the hillside, where Plegian forces were advancing. From the periphery, I cataloged the location of some of the others; Robin stood a few yards away on Gri's left, her own sword drawn. Father, I knew, was behind me. But, in that moment, neither of them mattered. There were Grimeal here. I could almost feel them, through the Falchion, the blade, somewhat disillusions by the refusal to murder Gri, pulsed and snarled as the vestiges of Grimeal magic started to wash up the hill, telltale markers of some kind of ritual invocation.

"Go." Robin mouthed, eyes flickering to Gri and me. Although I had little interaction with Father's tactician, I had a pretty good guess what her plan was. This, besides just psychological warfare if anyone escaped the battle here, was just a way for Robin to learn more about the two of us.

Pure malevolence dripped from Gri's smile as her left hand rose, thin tendrils of darkness extending outwards. "Ex Astris: Demonica Infinium Vindicus!" My heart quickened as the invocation rolled off the older woman's tongue. That particular spell was a favorite opening salvo of the Grimeal, Grima in particular, and had often been the only warning we had before an attack.

Overhead, fog swirled, coalescing around points of brimstone, as a low chorus of damned screams began to rise. Falchion began to shine brighter and brighter, the Divine Blade sensing the rise of Grima's power nearby. Pulling my eyes from the storm above, I allowed myself a single glance towards Gri.

Shadows magic swirled about her palm, occasionally sparking with lightning. The darkened blade in her other hand was lowered, her traditional guard. Swirling in the wind of her magic, her cloak seemed to live. Striding forwards, the Lady of Grima allowed the approaching soldiers to get a full view of the person who had just cast the spell which was turning their sky into a personal hell.

Falchion sang with magic as it left its sheath, throwing light every direction as the magic of Naga surged through my veins. Coming to stand beside Gri, the world seemed to slow, moments before the first meteor struck the earth.

A second passed, before war-cries filled the air, the Plegian soldiers, previously prepared to charge, despite the meteors raining on their head, where caught flat footed.

We hit the line first, blood spraying from the throat of two soldiers, decapitated in perfect tandem.

Twisting to the side, I deflected an axe with my bracer, small bits of magic flashing along the point impact. As the man staggered his eyes widened for a moment, then I clove him in twain. With a strangled gurgle, he died, already forgotten in the flow of battle.

Ducking to the side, a sword hissed over my head. Gri twisted behind me, coming back to back. Blocking a sword aimed for her back, I punched the man in the face, feeling the satisfying crunch of a nose breaking. A flash of lightning from Robin tore him in half.

Lunging forwards, I drove Falchion straight through the chest of another man, ripping the blade free. Twisting to block an arrow, I drove Falchion into the back of an archer. Twirling to the side, I flipped Falchion behind my back to deflect a strike as Gri's arm entered my field of view to blast another archer.

Falchion magic pulsed, a desire to end Grimeal overbearing in relation to the rest of the fighting. Almost absentmindedly swatting a sword aside, I refocused, lashing out and lopped the wielders head off. Blood sprayed upwards, and I turned away, Gri tapping my shoulder.

The Lady of Grima pointed towards the back of the dwindling battle, where a circle of seven Grimeal could be seen. Locked into a chant, they seemed oblivious to the goings on of the world around them. Even as a meteor smashed into the dirt a dozen feet away, then remained clueless as to what was happening.

With the expectation that Gri was following, I started in that direction. Cutting down a soldier, I winced when gore splattered across my side. A glance told me that Gri had caused him to explode with magic. More lightning snapped, sending more Plegian's to their grave.

A pulse of magic washed forth, Falchion now a sliver of literal sun in my palm. At last noticing our prescience the Grimeal broke off their spell.

"Your God is angry." Drawing level with me, Gri gave a low hiss. I sparred the woman a single glance: Coated in blood, her cloak was genuinely demonic, bits of fluid and viscera falling from the tails with every step. "He demands retribution."

Our eyes locked, just for a second, an earlier question flashing between us. Her left hand came up, offered her hand to me, as one might a dancing partner. In any other situation, with any other person, it would have been laughable. Yet, as my own hand came up, fingers resting over Gri's, I couldn't find the will to laugh.

In the same instant, we moved. Spinning, our blades came down, and two mages died. Screaming incantations, the others flailed back. Spells splattered across Gri's cloak. Falchion sending another aside. Twirling, I split another mage collar to hip, sending gore sloughing downwards, before spinning about. Back to back for a brief moment, Gri's blade tapped against my own, and then we were moving once again.

In many ways it was a dance. Flowing in between each other, swords flashing, we killed. Where one of us left an opening, the other was already present, magic and blade at the ready. One of the Grimeal tried to resurrect his companions to fight. That lasted only a precious moment, as Falchion destroyed their tainted bodies.

The last Grimeal, his eyes wide with panic, arms raised in desperate casting gesture, fell to Cordelia, the woman dropping from the sky, lance shinning red with blood. His death was brutal, the point of the lance ricocheting off his collar bone, and the hooves of the falling Pegasus smashing his skull in. Chunks of white and grey flying.

"That seems a bit extreme." The ripples of power in the words were in time with Falchion's low pulsing. Cordelia gave a small shrug, her eyes flickering with magical energies.

"For them, there is no such thing." She spat, magic fading from her eyes, leaving them somewhat appraising. "You two are terrifying." Her voice changed from cold fury to a more tempered tone. "And covered in blood." I blinked, feeling somewhat confused, until I glanced downwards.

Covered in blood was perhaps an understatement, my clothing was soaked in blood and viscera. Only Falchion had escaped such treatment. Gri I knew was coated in blood, but a closer look revealed bits of gore and bone covering every bit of the woman, a few caked into her hair; sharp white contrasting painfully with the dark, bloody purple.

"Yes." Gri's frank reply seemed to make Cordelia pause. To be honest, I didn't really care to much. This was what happened when you went into a war. As long as there was a nearby bath, I wasn't overly concerned. It was only when blood had time to dry that it really became annoying.

"Gods, must everyone cover themselves in blood of our enemies?" Father swore. He was bloodied for certain, but not to the same extent as Gri or myself. To his side, even Robin seemed quite bloodied, although not injured.

"I would argue those two bathed in the entrails of the Grimeal, while I simply got covered in blood during battle." Robin quipped, gesturing towards Gri. "I would further point out I do not have brains in my hair, or intestines. Never mind that fact I did not dump an entire corpse of blood upon my head." Her lips quirked, not quite from surprise, or even really being upset. "Although I won't dispute the efficiency of the method, the execution seems a bit messy."

I blinked, before starting to laugh, unable to find any other sane reaction. Gri began to chuckle as well, shaking her head.

"I could point out that you don't seem to have done much better." Gri retorted between chuckles. "All you have done is avoid slicing someone in half crotch to cranium as they are leaping towards you." Robin's eyes flickered with an emotion I was unfamiliar with before she nodded in quite acquiescence to Gri's words. Father, frowned, but remained silent. "Besides, it isn't like our cloaks will stain." Shrugging, she flicked her wrist.

There was a swirl of black win, and I twitched, clamping down the urge to attack. When the wind died down, Robin and Gri were cleaned of gore, and a quick look told me I was as well.

"You shouldn't do that." I snapped. Not for the first time, I wondered if she wasn't taunting me. To my surprised, she inclined her head, an expression that bordered on contrition appearing for a moment.

"True. However I suspect you have no desire to spend an hour trying to remove blood from your hair." She paused, before falling silent. I couldn't help but compare the posture with how Morgan would clam up when you didn't want to reveal more information than necessary.

"Impressive." Robin glanced at her cloak. "It seems that was the only force that Gangrel sent here, I would have expected the sounds of battle, and whatever it was that Gri did to have attracted attention from any others." Back to business it seemed.

"Survivors?" I asked. I doubted there were many, despite everything else, I knew the Shepherds, even their younger selves, were more experienced that the untrained rabble we had been fighting. Robin's lips thinned, and she glanced at Cordelia.

"None." Her words struck me as both afraid and impressed. "And no losses amongst the Shepherds." I released a pent up breath. Thank goodness.

"Donnel seems to think we should make the journey to the village as quickly as possible." Father jumped in, nodding in the vague direction of where the pot wearing boy was leaning against a rock. Hopefully someone talked to him, killing was not an easy thing to learn or do.

"He's right." Robin flicked a lock of her hair into place. "The sooner we get back to the Capitol the better." Father nodded, his expression turning grim. "Cordelia, if you can gather the Shepherds, and either you or Sumia take another scouting flight?" Offering a gesture of assent, Cordelia took flight.

"If Gangrel is already sending soldiers to places like this…" Father shook his head. "How soon before he marches against Ylisse properly?"

Closing her eyes and letting the oppressive feeling of Fell magic fade away, Gri gave voice to the truth of the future without even a pause. "I suspect not for some time yet. Insane as he is, he does listen to the council of others, at least if Aversa's presence is any sort of gauge." Aversa was with Gangrel? "She will suggest he waits for a single overwhelming blow to Ylisse, to flood the borders with hundreds of thousands of screaming soldiers, and drown Ylisse in its own corpses."

"Er…" Father frowned. "I'm not sure that would have much success, if we have you two fighting for us." Gesturing to the carnage around us, he went on "You and Marth are one person armies, just using swords, and a little bit of magic."

"Don't be so quick to evaluate our skill so highly." I broke my silence, wishing there was a good way to explain myself. "A crowd of untrained rabble is one thing, a cohesive army is another." Robin gave a sharp nod in agreement. "Further, and overreliance on warriors such as myself or Gri is unwise.

"While you are correct, I would hazard a guess that a well-oiled military unit would fare about as well against you two as this bunch did." Robin's speculative gaze drifted between everyone. "Or, with training, any of the Shepherds." Father turned to give her an incredulous gaze. Robin's eyes were hard as she continued speaking. "Chrom, complete destruction of an enemy force is exceptionally rare when armies clash. Yet that is what happened today. Furhter, thing about the battle on the Plegian border. Marth wasn't present at all, and Gri had less influence there, and the amount of death was comparable."

"Oh." Father muttered, growing thoughtful in his own right.

"Robin is right." Gri agreed. "While Ricken and I accrued an impressive pile of corpses, in a battle such as that one, traditional tactical wisdom would indicate that the Shepherds should have been slaughtered. Instead, you handed Gangrel a resounding defeat."

"While this conversation is fascinating," I cut in, once more, "Can we perhaps have it in a location that does not stink of death?"

 **A/N: Much faster update time! Huzzah! Maybe because writing about randos getting murdered is way more fun… well, and we are really getting into the meet and potatoes of this story now, or at least this third of it. Yes, this story will roughly be in thirds, being the War with Gangrel, the War with Valm, and then Grima. I think I said that before, maybe not.**

 **Once again, a shout out to Aura of Twilight (Angle of Darkness and Light here on FFN), for putting up with my shit. …there's a thought. Did anyone swear this entire chapter? No they didn't. Wild. That's usually the shit Aura deals with.**

 **. Next chapter might be a bit, I think it's one that's gonna require some…ah…help. Either way, hurray for simultaneous releases of unrelated things, as this should go up within about 10 minutes of a RWBY thing that distracted me last week.**

 **Reviews, comments, ideas, etc. are always appreciated.**


	18. Chapter Sixteen: No Escape

**Chapter 16: No Escape**

 **Lady of Grima: Gri**

Donnel's home village certainly had the quaint and homey feel that everyone liked to associate with the backcountry. Such charms had little to offer me now, although perhaps in years past it might have brought some degree of nostalgia. Now it was a simple reminder of hundreds of similar tableaus, with a simple difference: smiling laughing villagers were replaced by corpses, mangled by magic, blade and wartime savagery; their killers laughing, offering severed heads to my feet.

I had managed to find some measure of quiet, as the Shepherds dispersed to their various tasks. Donnel had gotten ahold of Chrom and was showing the prince around, chattered excitedly about any and everything. Robin had managed to slip away from the two sometime before, and I was initially surprised to by the lack of Sumia at Chrom's side, before it struck me that Robin likely had her and Cordelia sweeping the rest of the island as a precaution.

In a paradoxical way, I almost found myself wishing for someone to wander close enough to speak. I had little desire to form meaningful relationships with any of the Shepherds, but calling up Grima's magic and then throwing myself into a battle with such abandon always conjured memories. Memories I would prefer to leave forgotten.

"Do the memories ever get easier?" Lucina stepped out of the shadows, the darkened blues and purples of her clothing melding into the stretching darkness of the setting sun better than one might have expected. Her eyes were clouded, and even her usual presence was somehow diminished, as though some great yoke had fallen about her shouldes.

Offering a brief curse to Naga, I had wished for company to take my mind off the memories, not to talk about them, I gave Lucina a half shrug. "It depends on what you mean by easier."

Lucina gave a shuddering sigh. "Do they ever get better? Am I ever going to stop seeing the people I've killed?" Her eyes closed, as if to restrain the tears that still snuck past. "Does killing them get easier? They're monsters Gri, I watched performs acts so terrible they almost cannot be put to words. Why…why?"

Why indeed. It wasn't a question I had an answer for. I never had regrets, in that sense, about killing. Growing up Validar's daughter killed any chance of those. Looking back, as my sense of self, and morality evolved, I felt disgust at how many I had killed. At the innocent lives, the so called collateral damage that resulted from a couple of gods gifted mages settling their differences. Yet, those who stood against me in battle, I didn't feel any sorrow for. They had made their choice, I made mine, and as the saying went, might made right.

"I cannot say it if ever gets easier, Lucina." Pushing my hair back, a few locks having fallen over my face, I allowed my hands to gesture towards my cloak. "I was…. corrupted, so I feel much less remorse about the taking of lives than I should." I paused, searching for the right words. "Someone, many years after you departed, told me that, it was proof I was not too far gone that I felt some remorse for my actions, and that, should that ever change, I would know that I had succumbed to my upbringing." I elected not to mention that said person had imparted that advise with my sword a foot deep in their guts. Bile rose in my throat, just another in a litany of innocent lives lost to a pointless war.

"Sometimes, it isn't even the memories." The way Lucina carried herself it was so easy to forget that she wasn't even to her twentieth year. Poised, in control, and radiating the sort of authority that Lord and Ladies across the continent would envy, Lucina, and her Marth persona by extension, would pass easily for middle aged. The reality that Lucina, despite her airs, was younger than Chrom and Robin, hit home then, watching the weight of her past deeds crash down upon her shoulders.

"Guilt." What we could have done differently. How might we have prevented something. Or, the worse kind, when we knew what would have saved lives, only just a little too late. Lucina managed a nod, eyes opening once more. "No, I don't think it ever quite goes away…" There was no right thing to say. I wasn't about to lie to the Lady of Naga, to try and offer a platitude I knew to be false. "Perhaps though, I am the wrong person to ask, having drifted from horror to horror, piling up crime after crime upon my shoulder." Soft laughter. "Grima destroyed me, left a shattered ruin of a girl in his wake. Every time I came within a breath of healing, some new facet came, and I broke once again."

"Gods." Knees giving way, Lucina slumped. "How do you stay sane? The guilt, the bodies…they just keep piling up." I bowed my head. The unspoken implication, that her pile just kept rising, given how long I had lived, mine must have been gigantic, hung in the air between us for several seconds.

"I'm not sure I am sane anymore Lucina." I whispered. "I've been broken, repaired and broken again." A mirthless chuckle. "Perhaps I have gone so insane I must be sane as a result." A question pondered on many a sleepless night. "You are strong Lucina." It was a paltry gesture; the best comfort I could hope to offer. "Far stronger than I ever was, or will be." Her head snapped around, to glare at me.

"What are you talking about?" She demanded. Nestled in her left eye, the Brand shone, suffused by a sort of magic I had little understanding of.

"Do you know how I finally got rid of Grima?" She shook her head, and it was all I had not to curse aloud. The conversation wouldn't have been easier if she knew, really, but I would have preferred not to relieve that moment of weakness. "In those early years, Grima was a spirit, to weak to sustain his own monstrous body, instead inhabiting mine, leeching off my will and magic. As time passed, and he left me to my own devices more and more, I was able to grow stronger, to resist." Some of the desperation of those times crept into my tone. "It was such a simple plan, in theory. I trapped him in my own mind, held him there, and jumped off the highest cliff in the immediate vicinity of the Plegian Castle." Lucina gasped, making to speak. I plowed onwards, jaw tightening as the phantom sensations filled. Ground rushing forwards, hair streaming back, arcs of magic flying off my skin as we grappled for dominance. "I kept him trapped in my mind for four and a half seconds, an eternity in that sort of time, before impacting solid rock." I felt my lips curl with disgust. Ironically, it hasn't hurt. "My body shattered. Organs destroyed, bones splintered beyond repair. Injuries that, even with my current ability to heal, would have left me dead. They should have left me dead, where it not for Grima. He flooded my body with Fell power, rebuilding the entire thing in the span of seconds." Agony, of the sort you almost enjoy it. "Except, he stopped short. Left me with more than enough injuries to prove lethal, and then abandoned me at the bottom of that cliff to die."

Lucina watched me for a long time, her eyes searching my expression for something, lips curled into a mockery of a grimace. "In Naga's name…" she whispered. I wasn't sure what she saw, but I kept talking.

"I'm not sure why I didn't die. There was nothing to anchor me to this world; my life had so little meaning I was more than willing to pass onwards." Bitterness crept into my words for the first time. "But, my magic disagreed… You first fought me, as the Lady of Grima, seven hours after that." A wince, well deserved. Another memory that brought me little but shame, and no doubt inspired terror for her. "I…I can't claim that battle was not purely me." A whisper, an admission of a guilt that always haunted me. "My body had taken the mantle of Lady of Grima long before that day, but it wasn't until those moments, that I accepted that power. That I became what I am today." What I was destined to be all along. "I am a mockery, Lucina. A mockery of a woman, forced to live with my hatred, and torment, and the knowledge I was so close to escaping things I never had the ability to choose."

Those eyes, the non-judgmental blank stare that reminded me of Tiki, of Sumia, of so many others. Even Chrom in his last moment, had worn that expression, refusing to lay the blame for his own end at my feet, despite having seen me grapple with, and succumb to those dark powers he had been fighting.

At last, Lucina broke eye contact, staring down at her hands. She reached down, touching the Falchion, as though trying to draw strength from the ancient blade. In our short time as tentative allies, I had gotten the impression the gesture was almost ritualistic, a way of reinforcing her own confidence.

"I…I…" She trailed off. "Suppose neither of us had a choice." The words were halting, broken by long pauses, and deep breaths. "About fighting. About Falchion." Chill ran up my spine, a certain level of fury building, my previous self-loathing fading into the background as indignation rose up. "When Grima came…it all just…it…" Her words faltered, slipping away, even as my mind raced to keep up.

What in Grima's name did Lucina mean she never had a choice? She was the Lady of Naga, of course she had a Grima-damned choice! While I had been under no illusions as to the kindness of Lucina childhood, given that I had disemboweled her father with lightning, and then played host to the demonic god who led a long and bloody war that culminated in the destruction of her country, I had thought she willingly took on the title of Lady of Naga. At the time, I had assumed, in what small manner I could, trapped in my own mind with little conscious interaction with the outside world, that she simply wanted vengeance upon the one who ended her last living family. The idea of being forced into the position of Lady of Naga was unfathomable. Even I had 'consented' to the banner of Grima, although it was consent under dubious terms. My opposite had bene but a child, a child with no reason to know or to understand….

"In Grima's name _no._ " Fell magic, howled in my ears, Grima's deep throated cackling roar of a chuckle pounding against my head. They hadn't. The roar grew louder. I reached deep inside, the power building to match my mounting anger. My emotions spiraled out of control, my heartbeat ringing in my ears. At my hip, Falchion pulsed, sending blasts of Naga's power, attempting to counter act the rising Fell energy in my viens. I focused on the sword, gathering my will, intent on squashing its resistance. There were some lines you did not cross, and Falchion was toeing right up to one of them.

"Gri?" Lucina's words were small, laced with panic. Taking a deep breath, I took hold of the swirling fury inside of me, pushing it back. This wasn't the time. "What…" What had enraged me.

"When Sumia disappeared." Every word shook, my innate magic pushing past the control, forcing its way into the fore. "The Followers of Naga. They had you Awaken Falchion." I had to be sure. Lucina nodded, confusion evident. "Never asked if you wanted to fight, or wanted that responsibility. Simply brought you to the Altar, summoned their Goddess ,and instructed you to perform the ritual." Another nod. "Bastards."

Turning away from Lucina, I closed my eyes. The distance to Ylisse was far too great to cover in a single teleport, even empowered with rage. Southtown first. Then a series of jumps to the Capitol. At last, I let my emotions free, feeling the surge of magic, Fell energy feeling the malignant emotions and rising to that call.

"Gri?" I heard Lucina speak again, in a sort of detached manner. Half of me was already gone, form the magic required to leave this place, and reappear hundreds of miles away.

"Yes?" Magic rippled from my words, and I could see the air bending, the first major indication of my teleportation spell.

"What…what are you doing?" she seemed to be choking on the air, apparently my magical aura was stretching out farther than anticipated.

What was I going to do? It wasn't really a hard question. They had taken her choice. Stooped to the level of Grima's faithful. They would die. "I'm going to prevent something from ever having the chance of coming to pass." Focusing on a single location, I twisted, hurtling the magic into the void.

Seventeen seconds later, I stood outside the primary temple to Naga, just outside the Ylissean Capitol.

"Grima. Attend me." Orange flared down the length of my cloak, runes lighting, their protective magic's weaving seamlessly with my pulsing aura. For a moment, the entire world shifted colors, greys and blacks becoming more pronounced. Bile rose in my throat, at the idea of playing the part of a Grimeal Noblewoman. At more killing.

I quashed those thoughts. I would not allow any chance for these people to destroy the will, the choice of another child. For violating that sanctity, I would kill them. At my hip, Falchion pulsed its objections, only to fall away as my attention briefly turned towards it.

"Stupid sword." I started walking.

They shouted greetings as I neared the temple gates. Acolytes returning from some service, white robes shinning in the evening sun, waved. My left hand rose, for a moment, a lethal spell on my lips. As the last second, I adjusted my aim, the bolt of black energy upwards, blowing a sizable hole in the walls. They acolytes were not to blame. I knew exactly who needed to die, no reason to add more. Innocent lives need not be ended.

Fortunately, they understood the message, and ran, screaming into the temple. A small effort, and black fire poured from my sleeves, forming into Grima's signature blade. Stepping through the gates, I swept my gaze over the few stupefied figures in the courtyard.

"Begone, demon!" Oh, wonderful. They did have a few of the warrior monks about here. Four of them, guarding the entrance to the actual temple. None of them were… threatening, but avoiding killing them would pose a challenge. "You will not defile this Sacred place."

The hood of my cloak obscured my expression from them, I knew, otherwise my smile might have been unnerving. "Alternatively, you remove yourselves from my sight, and I will spare you lives. I have no wish to slay innocent and uninvolved." Grima's powers graveled my voice, enough to shake the bones of anyone listening.

Apparently, stupidity was a qualification for the position, as they charged, axes raised. Exaltations to Naga filled the air for a few seconds, until a gurgling scream, when I buried my shadowy blade into the stomach of the first.

Ripping it free, I swatted away an ax, hitting its owner with a spell that would inflicted dozens of tiny cuts all over the body. Painful, but unlikely to kill. The third stumbled back, eyes widening in sudden terror, the stupidity of his actions becoming apparent.

Number four continued her reckless charge, screaming the entire time. Deflecting his axe, I brought the sword down cleaving through his arm at the elbow. Blood sprayed, a painful whimper as the man crumpled to his knees.

"Get them to a healer in the city." Stepping back my victims, I started towards the main temple, before addressing the gathered worshippers and acoylytes. "They should live if you're quick about it." A flick of my wrist blasted the main door in, and I left the courtyard to sort itself out.

The main hall of the temple was relatively spartan. A few benches, and the Altar at the far end, surrounded by those I was searching for. Five priests, kneeling before the altar. Opulent robes, amusing styles of hats.

"Ex Astris: Hizl." Every light in the room was snuffed out in an instant, prompting shouts of surprise. Two of them attempt to create a light, which lasted for a moment, before sputtering out.

"Who are you!" A demand. This one was a woman, her features not easy to obscure.

Stepping into the room, I made no effort to avoid making noise, letting my armor clink, footfalls ring heavily. Magical darkness was a useful thing, especially for intimidation.

"Show yourself!" Another demanded, at last managing to conjure a small light, his eyes wide, straining for something.

"I don't think I will." Flicking my wrist, I sent a small bolt of magic flying, striking the hand of the man who had conjured himself a light. Screaming, he stumbled back the light snuffing out. "You see, I don't make a habit of talking with scum like you."

"Naga, protect us!" The woman now.

"You're Goddess has no power here." Fell magic pounding in my ears, I dipped into the darker reaches of myself. "Ex Astris: Domnium Demona Solarum!" Such an unassuming spell, it formed a small spark, floating a few inches off my fingertip. Repeating the incantation, I summoned more, feeling a bit of cold smile pull at my lips as the sparks danced over my fingers. "Any final words before you die?"

"Demon!" Bright light lanced forwards, splattering over my cloak.

Hrm. Pity. Wasting their final words. Typical.

Their death screams, as the spell tore their bodies to pieces, bit by bit, were pleasing, to that dark bloodthirsty monster inside of me, the one that reveled in the carnage I was capable of. Shaking that feeling off, I turned away, preparing magic to leave. My work was done.

"Fellblood." Her voice was unmistakable, ringing with a sort of power that my mortal frame was incapable of comprehending, never mind wielding in battle. "You believe you can commit such acts with impunity?" Magic weighed down, despite the distance Naga's spirit was capable of projecting power without effort. More power than I possessed in my entire body.

Underneath my hood, I felt a bit of a sneer forming, unbidden. Sometimes, they were so alike, Naga and Grima. "Unless you wish to raze the nearby city, there is little you can do to oppose my actions, Naga." Her self-righteous tone had wormed its way under my skin, as it had in the future. "Regardless, I have taken those lives I came for."

"And why did you come for them?" It was such a formalized encounter, as it we were completing some kind of contract, by speaking here, over the corpses of her priests and priestesses.

For a brief moment, I entertained the idea of telling Naga the truth. They in the future they would commit a crime, and I had slain them before that happened. I had taken revenge for something that the aggrieved probably wouldn't have wanted me too. "Their crimes will become apparent in time, Divine Dragon." Turning my head just enough to glimpse the ethereal form of the Divine Dragon, glaring balefully down from above her altar. "The future holds many horrors, Naga, and I wish to ensure those horrors do not come to pass." Let her stew on that.

"I will not tolerate you killing of my followers, Fellblood."

"You act on the assumption that I care what you tolerate, Dragon." A flare of magic, and I was gone.

* * *

 **AN: And…done. A little faster than I expected actually, but my English class ended up being a wash, so I got to do some work in there.**

 **More violence, although not nearly as good of a kind. Some more bits of Gri, both what makes her tick, and backstory. And some Lucina as well. Oh, the horrible things I do to my characters. Or, characters I wish were mine. Not 100% on the next update, I want to get another chapter of some other projects done first. So, we'll see how that goes. Trying to write near sociopathic characters is a whole massive bag of suckage.**

 **Reviews, comments, concerns, all that fun stuff are always appreciated.**


	19. Chapter Seventeen: Heroes and Monsters

**Chapter Seventeen: Heroes and Monsters**

 **Lady of Grima: Gri**

"I am going to assume this is someone's idea of a joke?" Lucina's voice was cool, a tone that disguised a great deal of anger.

"I doubt it is a joke." I replied, surveying the room. Having never been in these parts of Castle Ylisse, at least not when they were intact, I was genuinely curious what lurked here. Lucina, having no such curiosity, was much more interested in being angry. The part of me that had mastery of logical assessing the situation admitted she had a point.

"And how," She snarled. "Do you figure that?" I shrugged, as an effective way of containing the wince. The Shepherds had only stayed on that little island for a day, sixteen hours after my return from killing those…slime, we had left, making good time back to the Capitol.

"Easily. You are forgetting that they don't know well, anything." I pointed out. "They look at our arguments, how we act around each other, and they see romantic interaction. They don't have the context, the foreknowledge about who we are, and what our lives entailed." My lips curled with amusement. "I have yet to decide if I am amused or frustrated by it."

"You would be." Lucina growled, although the words lacked heat. I spared her a short glare, my patience for outwards hostility was somewhat flagging.

"Robin has figured it out, except that she has somehow decided that we are somehow involved anyway." I snorted, feeling a sort of twisted amusement. "As if hate fucking is ever a good idea."

Lucina seemed somewhat stunned as I came back around in my survey of the room. Arching an eyebrow, I allowed the question settle in, curious if Chrom's daughter would pick up on it. After a moment to compose herself the young woman made a vague gesture. "It is odd to hear you be crass for the sake of being crass."

. "It is what it is." I replied, dropping into a conveniently placed wing back chair. It was comfortable enough, like the rest of the room. Opulent, without being gaudy, a style that suited the Yllissean royalty well. "This is not anyone's idea of a joke, Lucina, because it is their way of trying to be helpful." Pausing I weighed my next words for a moment. "Don't pretend at least one person in your little group didn't pull something like this." I caught her flush, and knew someone, possibly even her sister, had.

Despite the tint of her cheeks, Lucina continued to glare at nothing in particular. "I see." She paused, seeming to chew on a thought, before shaking her head. Her lips moved, but the angle I was at prevented me from forming a concrete idea of just what she had intended to say. After a few moments of continued silence, filled only by the soft chirping of a passing songbird, she spoke again. "So, what now?"

"Emmeryn's assassination is coming. Two days." A single moment that would make or break the future. "At most. I was not present for the event, but I was near the capital, and the news traveled swiftly through the countryside." Blue hair bobbed with her nod.

"You plan on meeting any assassin they send in combat yourself." It wasn't a question.

"Based on what I know; a Fell Mage was present. Despite Robin and Cordelia gaining skill in the art, you and I remain the best options to confront such an enemy." Lucina's lips curled with obvious distaste. "You have more experience fighting Grima's creations and servants than the aggregate ranks of the Shepherds at this juncture Lucina." In truth, that perhaps understated the point. Lucina had more experience fighting Grima's monstrosities than anyone alive.

"Including yourself." Her voice was carefully neutral, a well-placed barb, lurking just beneath the surface.

"Yes, including myself." No point in disagreeing with the truth. I hadn't fought nearly as many Risen or Grimeal as Lucina, despite having quite a few more years under my belt. Lucina's eyes narrowed, the part of her that was a brilliant swordswoman working overtime to try and process the situation.

"And how do you propose handling the issue of knowing Emmeryn's attempted assassination without revealing your foreknowledge?" And, of course, digging right into the heart of the problem. Revealing myself meant I would have to either break my promise to her about protecting Chrom, or get exceptionally creative with my lies.

"I don't know." Taking the time to sigh, I ran a hand through my hair. "There is not a good solution, in truth." Drumming her fingers against the Falchion, Lucina gave a slight nod, followed by a low hum of frustrationl

"Yes." Her expression was unreadable, eyes closing, lips thinning into a hard line. "It is time I moved on." That wasn't a surprise, Lucina wasn't at ease amongst the Shepherds, always having to wear her Marth persona. It was in many ways a good disguise, however, as with any lie, it feels victim to its own complexity. For her to continue here only increased the risk of her being discovered.

"You mean to be the one to confront your Father about it." A good way for her to leave, without raising to many undue questions.

"Yes." She sighed, hands folding into her lap. "It is time I moved on, got back to searching for the others." And we don't want others finding out, was the unspoken thought. We both knew it was only a matter of time before Cordelia let slip there was more to us than we let on.

"I understand." I replied as the silence drug on, trying to put genuine emotion into the words, for they were not empty platitudes. Although I have given my word to protect Chrom, I was feeling restless, especially now that we had seen Grimeal take the battlefield against us. My powers would be needed elsewhere. "Chrom isn't going to take your word at face value."

Lucina's gaze was inscrutable, azure eyes holding my own storm grey without the hint of a flinch. It was an irrational realization, in that moment that this was perhaps the most normal conversation we had had with each other to date. All previous ones had some sort of pretext, argument, or other faction driving them. "And what do you propose?"

Opening my mouth to respond, I stopped, considering the shift in the young woman. "You are actually considering listening to me." Despite my intentions, I never really expected to succeed in getting the Lady of Naga to listen to me, I had suspected our history to fraught with blood and death to have any chance of that. Lucina shrugged.

"Yes." So simple, yet, it didn't answer the question that provided a pretext for my question. Why was she willing to listen to me? For a second, I considered forcing the question, but in the end, it didn't seem worthwhile to do so.

"Either, you demonstrate that you are telling the truth, or catch him when Robin is around, and I am as well." Lucina's eyes narrowed, seeming unsure what ot make of my little list.

"Why you?" Steel settled into her eyes, appraising me anew.

I sighed. Convincing Lucina of this was not going to be easy, as not only was it entwined with our past, but it involved her family, the one thing my opposite valued beyond all reason. "I am rapidly coming to the conclusion that Robin and I are the same person. Or at least that I am what Robin will become if history does not change." Lucina's eyes hardened

"I see." Her face continued to give nothing away, but I saw the frustrated twitch of her lips.

"Robin has figured at least some of this out, and knows we think alike, so if I believe you, Robin is more likely too." I shrugged. "The other option is to completely ignore anyone else, and just act." A less than desirable option, for a laundry list of reasons.

Lucina sighed. "You sound so much like Morgan." I had to suppress the urge to flinch at that. There was a long pause, as I found myself unable to voice my thoughts without fear my voice would crack and give something away. "I'm going to guess you are going to suggest the option that involves getting both Robin and Father convinced."

"Of course." Anything that might steer Robin away from any slim chance of encountering a Fell Mage was welcome. Further, it would keep Robin and Chrom aligned with each other in terms of goals. Keeping track of just that duo was hard enough, never mind if they split off elsewhere. That, and this discussion needed to veer away from Morgan.

She shook her head. "Is it odd, how alike you two are, especially when Morgan has always been the one to suggest you weren't Grima."

I turned my head so Lucina couldn't see my eyes, letting a bit of my hair fall across my cheek. Tears stared to form in the corners of my eyes, and it took substantial force of will to prevent them from going anywhere. Hearing about Morgan was the last thing I needed right now. Not, I knew, that Lucina knew that. "Why?" I settled for asking, knowing that being silent would arouse suspicion, but that the single word was best ot keep my voice from breaking.

I heard the rustle of clothing that might have indicate a shrug. "I don't know." The reply was metered, as though being considered carefully before speaking. "The only things I know for certain are that she was convinced beyond any shred of reasonable doubt that you were not responsible, or at least unwilling, and always got extremely defensive when pushed on the issue." Lucina sighed. "I never got a concrete reason out of her, although she got more insistent after…"

I picked up the thread without pause. "She got more insistent after the battle at that old temple up north, didn't she?" The only time Morgan and Grima had fought, making Morgan one of only three people in the future to escape an angry Grima, had been a harrowing experience for everyone involved.

The battle between them had been horrific, watching powerful from within my own mind. Morgan, then only thirteen years, had pushed Grima to the limits of his prowess with conventional magic, displaying a command over the elements that until that point, I hadn't even heard of. Years of practice had allowed me a similar level of control, but I suspected that, even now, I would pale by comparison.

"Yes." Armor rustled, and Lucina moved back into my field of view, walking to stand beneath the window. "The first thing out of her mouth when she woke was that it was Grima she was fighting, not the person to whom the body actually belonged." Dry, bitter amusement filtered in Lucina's tone. "She received nothing but disbelief for her troubles."

I snorted. Disbelief? It had taken almost a century, assuming my sense of time was good, for my figure to become disassociated with the horror of Grima, so it wasn't hard to imagine a bunch of kids, fighting for their lives wouldn't be able to do it. "Somehow I don't find that surprising." I pointed out. Lucina gave a slight nod.

"Knowing what I know now, I agree." A drawn out snort interrupted her words. "It's odd, Gri." She leaned down, elbows resting against the window sill, her eye not doubt lost in the city below. "In my eyes, it has been less than two months since we stood opposite each other at the Outrealm Gate, mortal enemies.

"And now we are sitting in Castle Ylisse, having what passes for a civil conversation" I filled in, my amused thought from earlier in the moment boiling over. Lucina nodded, her hair falling, now full obscuring her face from view.

"Exactly." Her head turned, and those piercing eyes locked to mine in-between locks of hair. "What are we, you and I?" I was glad no one else was in the room to hear that question, or the rumors spawning therefrom would have been insufferable.

"I don't know." As it was, I didn't have a good answer for her. What moniker someone wanted to put the relationship between the two of us, it would be forever tainted by the past, an endless trail of bodies and horrors that we'd both sooner forget.

"I suppose not." She turned back to the outside again. A bitter note crept into her words. "Do you know how much I wanted to hate you? After that first meeting in that clearing?" A beat. "I did hate you. I clung to that hatred for as long as I could but…" For the third or fourth time that night, her words gave out.

For a moment, I almost gave in to the crazed urge to tell her it would be easier if she did hate me. Despite my desire for her trust, for her assistance, life would be easier, in a way, if she hated me. It would simplify the choices, the possibilities exponentially.

"I know you murdered the High Priest to Naga here in the capitol." Lucina whispered. "When you vanished after the mention of my childhood, I know you killed them. I don't know how I know…but I know." As those words left her lips, something clicked, a slow burning realization of a fact I had been denying for so long.

"No one ever told you." I whispered. Lucina's head snapped around, the force flipping her hair back.

Her eyes flashed with some emotion that I had no ability to discern. Her fingers wrapped around the hilt of her Falchion, stance tensing. "Never told me what?"

"Do you know why I call you Lady of Naga?" I asker, hoping that at least Lucina knew that much. I was disappointed however.

"No." She shook her head. "I always assumed it was simply a reference to my wielding Falchion." Her stance remained defensive, although she was relaxing a bit. "Much like I assumed your title as Lady of Grima was simply a virtue of being considered his High Priestess."

My own fury bubbled over, and I began to swear. Hundreds of years of accumulated profanity poured out, interspersed with random words in the Fell tongue, and the occasional bit of Arcana, when I ran out of profane terms, but was yet to be exhausted of rage. The idea that they hadn't even told her…. "That," Power rippled through my words the natural consequence of such fury, "Is grounds for me to remember Necromancy, and kill those bastards again." Fury having run its course, logical thought processes took over, and I began shoving my emotions back. I had not lost control for years, and I wasn't about to start now. Three nights ago notwithstanding.

"Why?" Fear flickered across Lucina's face, caught and quarantined as fast as it happened.

"Lady of Naga," Magic flickered about the moniker, "You are the Champion of Naga. That is why I call you by that title."

Lucina shook her head, hand falling away from Falchion, last traces of fear fading with the last bits of my rage. "What does that even mean?" It was a plea, a strangled request made from one who had no particularly reason to give it.

"Grima damnit." I wasn't equipped to explain the nuances of being the Champion of a God. Never mind the reasoning for some of my actions. "Grima damnit all." My head dropped into my hands, palms freezing against my forehead.

"Gri?" Lucina's tone shifted to confused, in the wake of my actions.

"Fuck all." Crass, but effective. "I am not the person to explain the concept of being a Champion." Shaking my head, I slumped into my chair. "Neither of us had a good introduction to the concept, and most of my knowledge is framed around being Grima's Champion, instead of Naga's, and before you ask, there is a large difference between the two."

Lucina shook her head, waving a hand sharply. "I don't understand."

I sighed. I knew I had to explain at least parts of this, as I could. "You are aware that Gods, both Grima, Naga and otherwise are not supposed to interfere with the affairs of mortal correct?" She inclined her head. "They are allowed to donate power to mortals, but they can't do much else than that." Lucina nodded once again. I sighed. It wasn't much, but it was a start. "The short answer is that Champions are the way that the Gods got around this issue. We are essentially vessels of pure deific power, and able to use that power to act upon the world in the stead of the gods we are supposed to serve. Somewhere along the way that requirement got lost, which is fortune for our case."

Lucina dropped onto the bed in the center of the room, eyes narrowing with every word. "So, what does that mean for me then?" She asked. "It obviously has little effect on you, besides providing you with an extra pool of powerful magic."

"Wrong. It affects me quite a bit, despite have long ago disavowed Grima." I sighed for what was not going to be the last time over the course of the night. While it was reasonable for Lucina to assume there was little effect on me beside magic, it couldn't be farther from the truth. "In times pasted, the various Godly Champions served other functions, for instance in millennia past the Champion of Grima acted to prevent other gods from meddling to closely in the affairs of people. As more and more gods passed into obscurity and were forgotten, this became less and less true." To my surprise, Lucina was listening with rapt attention, and I went on. "Grima's Champions, in the past, have incredible magical power, and are given an unparalleled control over Fell Magic. Due to being a bit more…connected, to Grima, we also suffer less of the physical and mental degradation that tends to afflict Mages of all sorts." I elected to avoid mentioning downsides, as that was a different conversation. "I am not familiar with what changes you might have undergone, that would be a conversation to take up with Naga…preferably when I am not around."

"Angry Goddess?" Lucina filled in the small gap I left without pause.

"Quite." Taking a deep breathe, I went on. "To my knowledge, the 'Champions' have become much less instruments of the various Gods to do good, or at least carry out their will, and more of refined weapons, hurled at their perceived enemies."

Lucina went silent, taking in everything I had said. For the first time ever, I had no framework to guess what was going on in her mind, nor, I admitted to myself, did I want to. This was something she had to come to terms with on her own. "She didn't take kindly to you murdering those faithful." Not quite what I expected, but not a bad one.

"How do you think you know that I killed them? Naga's rage bled over to you." Lucina blinked, eyes widening. "She was anything but happy with me." My lips quirked, my small confrontation with the Divine Dragon playing over again. "And defining those pieces of shit as faithful would be a stretch."

There was a pregnant silence. "Does Naga know? Did she know?" Lucina's question was rhetorical. The answer wasn't a pleasant one either. "Grima forced you to become his Champion?" Not to rhetorical, although I wasn't sure what the point of asking was.

"Yes and no." Those were not pleasant memories. Phantom pains shot down my back. "As Grima was using my body, I had to consent, but at that point my ability to resist Grima was non-existent, so the value of my consent was limited." Hopefully nothing more needed to be said about that.

Lucina flopped back onto the bed, armor clattering as she did so. "How did you do it?" There was a pause. "He was…overwhelming."

With a long sigh, I let my head lol back into the chair. How indeed. "Long practice, and…. having no choice." I gave a chuckle, tinged with black humor. "And…after a while, I couldn't stand watching torture, murder and…." I trailed off. "After that, it was just practice. Much like swinging a sword."

"You make it sound so easy." Lucina whispered, voice hoarse with emotion. "I spent years fighting that monster, and yet…."

"Our battles were very different." Perhaps a tad obvious, but worth saying none the less. "Resisting the will of a god pales to the idea of blatantly fighting against one." I snorted. "Long after you went back, he did make one attempt to kill me."

"You fought him?" Again, self-evident. Well, on further consideration it was not. Fighting Grima really was a fool's errand, unless you were stupidly powerful mage, or had a Divine sword. As asking was perhaps worthwhile.

"Yes. Although that battle was very different." I told her. "That was me fighting Grima as the many winged dragon he loved to terrorize the populace with." Lucina sucked in a breath, no doubt shock written across her features. "The level of magic required to fight such a monster is….outlandish." Had left me unconscious for a considerable time after, for nothing achieved.

Lucina snorted. "Outlandish." More statement than question. "Only outlandish." The words were distant, lost in the near incomprehensibility of the entire affair.

"Quite." I allowed a flicker of bitterness to creep into my smile. "You and I belong to a very small group of people throughout history Lucina. We are the sort of people who have fought gods, and won."

Her head rose, an attempt at a withering glare faltering and dying out as

"Neither of us had a choice." She pointed out. "I was raised into the war with Grima." Her frame shook with an exhale. "No child should be forced into either situation."

We were both so bitter, I realized, in our own ways. Lucina, from her destroyed life, her lack of childhood, for being given that heroic impossible choice. Me, for having no choice, for being weak, for being too slow, for not dying.

"I tell myself the bitterness doesn't help. I tell myself I did the right thing." Lucina's eyes closed, as though trying to hold in her tears, before she slumped onto the bed again. "I tell myself that if I didn't, no one else would. I tell myself Morgan, Cynthia all the others would have died if I didn't. Hope will never die, I told them. I hear myself repeating those hollow words, over and over to myself, until I sounded as if I believed them." The shaking was the only way I knew she was crying. "Yet I fall asleep to fields of corpses, to the screams of my friend's nightmares. I'm always half awake, afraid for the next time the Grimeal come, the next time I must kill." Her chest was heaving, almost to the point of hyperventilation. "And when I do sleep, I spend hours trapped in a litany of those threats. Of watching my friends beaten, starved, mutilated, humiliated, raped. I see every promise those monsters made given form. "

I flicked my wrist, a small burst of magic sealing the door to the room. Even I had forgotten, I thought, for years and years, that Lucina was, in many ways only a child the first time she took up the Falchion, and stood toe to toe with the sort of monster that had defeated warriors thousands of times greater than she was in that moment. She was just a child, guided by the power of a Divine being, forced into a situation that could not be escaped, and handed a charge that no single human should have to shoulder.

"I hear the screams of those we couldn't save, that we weren't fast enough, that we didn't fight hard enough. I…I…I see Father, writhing pain as he dies. I see the hordes of Risen descending upon Naga's Temples. I hear their voices telling me I failed. My friends, family, all of them. The people I've killed too. Everywhere. I see faces. I killed so many, Gri. So many. And it felt good. Right." Bolting back upright, her eyes were wild. "I am a monster Gri. What kind of hero finds joy in killing?"

My heart twisted. In Grima's name. The whole situation was backwards. Yet, in many ways, it wasn't. Never trained as a soldier, Lucina had no method to rationalize the deaths she inflicted, beyond fight to die. At least I had the horrible, but effective training of the Grimeal to fall back upon.

"You are not a monster Lucina." Perhaps there was an irony in me being the one to offer that condolence. Holding up my hand to forestall her words, I went on, every word considered. "You did what you had to do to survive Lucina. It wasn't pretty, it wasn't enjoyable." Something in my chest twisted. "The world is a cruel mistress. It doesn't care about what we think is right or wrong…and hardly if we live or die."

Reaching up, I undid the broach holding my cloak in place, leaving the garment upon the chair as I began moving forwards, holding Lucina's gaze the entire time. Lucina's eyes swirled with rage, fear, terror, and a myriad of emotions that I had no time to process even if I had the experience to do so.

Stopping before her, I took a sharp breath. "There are plenty of people who will attempt to judge the actions you took; to claim they knew best." A soft snort. "They are fools. They would have died in your position, precisely because they could not make those difficult choices."

Leaning down, I grasped the hilt of Lucina Falchion, the blade's magic hissing in protest at my very touch. Drawing the weapon was a smooth motion, the setting sun glinting off the metal as I extended my arm, settling the weight of the sword into my grip.

"When, you stand before whatever eternal judgement there might be, Lucina, I imagine the scales will fall heavily on the side of good." My lips curled with wry amusement. My left hand settled on the hilt of my own Divine Sword, humming in tune with the Lady of Naga's blade. "Heroes are villains are things for fairy tales. A fairytale hero would die upon their first battlefield… bleed out on their own sentimentality." I'd seen that happen. More than I cared to admit. "You asked me what kind of hero finds relief in killing? Finds it worthwhile?" She gave a nod, tears streaking her cheeks now. "The sort of hero who has lived, and will continue to life. The sort that has faced hard choices, and made them." Metal rasped as my Falchion slide from its sheath. "A hero is what we make them, in my experience."

I stepped back, twirling the swords, until one rested on either side of her, tips pressed into the lines of the bed. "There are those who call me hero. Others curse me as a villain. No doubt the same might be said of you." I turned my head. "I find that only those who had lived as we have are in any position to pass judgement." A little to late, I realized perhaps that turn of phrase was unfortunate.

"What are you going to do?" She whispered. From her eyes, swimming in tears and frustrations, I thought she might have expected me to kill her. It would have been so easy. A small flick of each wrist, and her life would end.

"I cannot ease all your worries, or lift the burden on your shoulders," nor would I want too, "Nor am I going to kill you." Something flashed through her expression, too fast for me to read. "But I can at least offer some solace from your dreams."

Lucina snorted, disbelief replacing all other feelings on her face. "How? Morgan says there isn't magic to prevent dreams." I allowed a ghost of a smile to cross my lips, I did know something she didn't.

"Morgan isn't wrong. The magic I intend to use doesn't prevent dreams. More of transfer them." Lucina's eyes regained that wild tinge.

"Why?" Such a complex little question. Why did I want to see her dreams? Why would I offer.

"You shouldn't have to suffer." Lucky enough, the answers were easy, save for the lie. "I can lock a part of my mind off, so to speak, so I don't see, and you can sleep peacefully." That was the lie. I would live Lucina's dreams instead of her. The sort of mental control I was implying was impossible to achieve, no questions asked. Centuries of failed attempts had reinforced that fact. Morgan or Laurent would have called my lie out at once, but Lucina, luckily, was ignorant enough of magic that I could convince her.

Chrom's daughter gulped. "You won't do anything else?" Her voice was timid, a sort of childish fear that made perfect sense, while being out of character in the same breath.

"In Grima's name, I so swear to only transfer your dreams unto myself." I replied. Lucina's lips quirked in a mockery of her usual confident smile. Direct mimicry of her own promises, a quirk I perhaps shouldn't have known, the one way I knew for sure to get the point through. I meant no harm in my offer.

"I…" She hesitated.

"You don't have to." This had to be her choice, I told myself. No matter how much I wanted to just cast the spell, it had to be her choice. So much had been taken from her, and her trust in me, while more than I expected was no doubt fragile. I couldn't just act.

There was a long silence, before Lucina nodded, closing her eyes. "Alright." A measure of her usual calm had returned. "Do it." With a nod, turned away, moving back to the chair I had been in, resting our Falchions on the seat, before turning to sit on the edge of the bed.

This particular spell was an exceptionally old one, devised at some point to serve as a form of therapy for combat shock. That said, it could also be used as a method torture, which was its current legacy. Such old magic had also fallen out of fashion, having generally less utility than newer spells, and not being perceived as an invasion of privacy.

Age was further reflected in the casting of the spell. No Arcana involved, instead a lengthier chant, shaping the magic by word and will. Every word layered the spell further and further, establishing the framework in which the energy would be worked. The lack of a foci prevented me from skipping these steps as I might otherwise.

" _Accipere sommium_." The final words rippled out shooting down my arm, and into Lucina, as my left hand came to rest over hers. Tear stained blue eyes fluttered, before closing, a wash of energy shooting back up my arm as the spell ran its course. Leaning back, I took a long breath, rising from the bed. It would be a short time before her dreams began to form, and I would pass from consciousness, and I had no desire to sleep in my armor.

I managed to remove a few pieces of armor, letting them scatter onto the floor, before my own eyelids grew heavy, and I found myself collapsing against the side of the chair.

* * *

 **AN: So, as I was in the processing of doing the edits for this chapter, this story apparently ticked over 10k views, which just boggles my mind.**

 **This chapter is also a massive terrible failure of a thank you for that, because well… things happen. Almost to Emmeryn's assassination, which is where things start moving a bit faster. ...and total rip off title, and I don't care.**

 **Reviews, question, concerns are all appreciated!**


	20. Chapter Eighteen: A Tactician's Day

**Chapter Seventeen: A Tactician's Day**

 **Tactician of Ylisse: Robin**

"Our armies will hold them at the borders! They are ignorant savages, no match for the trained soldiers of Ylisse!" I wasn't sure which of the various Lords in the room was spewing drivel this time around, but it was the fourth time just this morning that I had heard this exact same argument, and I had to admit it was getting tiring. Frederick, Chrom, and at least one other nobleman had refuted the various permutations used the previous times, which probably meant that it was my 'turn'.

Opening my eyes, I tilted my head to the side, pushing down an innate desire to sneer. Sneering was Gri's thing, not my own. Around the table, Chrom's gaze was on me, seeming to have finally lost his patience with this goose chase. Lissa didn't seem much happier, and when I caught Emmeryn's gaze for a moment I shivered. Despite her kindly exterior, the Exalt's eyes were narrowing, and her expression tightening with anger. All told, this was getting us nowhere, and wasting everyone's times.

"As the person whose job it is to understand military strategy and tactics; I would disagree with you." Keeping calm as difficult, being yelled at by yet another racist, uptight moron was, annoying. "The Plegian Army outnumbers the Ylissean army by a factor of between three and ten to one, and while it is true they lack so much formalized training, the have all seen combat, and with such an astronomical numerical advantage, they will crush your men in open conflict." The racist opened his mouth to speak. "Considering that the borders of Ylisse have been leaking Plegian raiding parties for months, I would say that your current army isn't doing that good of a job of defending said borders as it is. How you seem to think that you will do better in a time of full blown conflict escapes me."

"How dare you!" Rising to his feet, the man glowered at me, obviously trying to puff himself up. It was mostly amusing, and I allowed myself a small quirk of the lips. "You are just some…. rat the Prince took a fancy too! You have no right to-"

"Lord Alistair! Enough!" Chrom barked, rising in turn, leaning towards to place both hands on the table. "Robin is has-"

I cut him off. "It's alright Chrom." Although I hated taking cues from Gri, especially if my theories about her were correct, this seemed like a valid time. "I wouldn't expect him to understand, given that he cowers in his mansion, while we are out actually fighting the Plegains." Leaning forwards so my elbows rested on the table, I met the man's eyes, allowing myself a small, somewhat predatory smile. "You find people like him in every kingdom. Sycophants, slowly leeching the lifeblood of the nation away with their treachery and cowardice."

"You ignorant whore!" He leaned forwards, spittle flying. "How dare you accuse me of treachery, while you sit there, wearing of those cloaks!" That stung, although I wasn't about to let him know that.

"Given that I have done more to fight the Grimeal since joining my sword to Chrom than you have in your entire life, I would say I have every right." He was halfway into the first word of a frothing reply when I cut him off. "Regardless, you have demonstrated no knowledge of military strategy to this point, so I fail to see why you are even in this room." Across the table, I could see Chrom wince. On our way here, he had told me not to censor myself, but perhaps that had been a bit much.

"I am a trusted advisor to the Exalt!" Apparently, I had pushed more than a few buttons by this point. Logic told me to stop, to let this go, but I had been exhausted of racism and ignorance by this point.

"Are you now…" Chrom shot me a pleading look across the table, as though he knew what was coming next. I don't think my smile in return was exactly comforting, although it caused Lissa to almost bouncing in excite in her seat, and over her shoulder, Frederick's dour expression was verging on amusement. "The only think you seem capable of advising Lady Emmeryn on is racism, ignorance, and the best way to kiss her own ass." Among the various other nobles, shock flashed at my blunt accusation. "You have, through this entire meeting, been nothing but a racist, ignorant, ill-informed obstructionist, advocating a close minded worldview that could very well see the entire Halidom in flamed within a year." His eyes bulged, and I cut off the building rant. "Considering that Lady Gri and myself, both natives of Plegia, have done more to assist in the defense of Ylisse and protection of your Exalt than more than half of this room _combined,_ I would suggest you be quiet." Pausing for a moment, I cut off his second attempted retort. "You were present at the border, I believe, directly after Gangrel attempted to assault the Exalt, where none of the Ylissean soldiers in the fight wore your livery, no?"

Leaning back into the chair, I held the man's eyes, daring him to retort.

"Thank you, Lady Robin." Emmeryn headed off whatever he had to say, a tone that, while calm, suggested the matter is closed. The Lord spluttered, turning to the Exact in shock.

"My lady! You can't-"

"Sit down, Lord Alistair." Giving him a severe glare Emmeryn sighed. "Lady Robin is here because she had unparalleled experience and knowledge in military command. To refuse her knowledge would be foolhardy, especially as she has been the catalyst of my brother's recent military successes, and protected me from the actions of King Gangrel, and she quite correct there was not a soldier with your colors on the field that day."

"So did the other Grimeal woman, yet I don't see her in the room!" He tried, only to wilt as Emmeryn glared down at him.

Chrom cut in at last. "Lady Gri is not our tactician. Further, she had been dealing with matters personal to her." He paused. "To be honest, she'd likely have killed you already, considering her past views of you." He shrugged. "She's quite intolerant of what she views as stupidity."

"And she's with Marth, and I don't' think they wanted to be woken up." Lissa added. I knew several of the advisors in the room had been in the tent the day Marth and Gri had threatened to murder one of their number in a manner suitable horrible, and none of them wanted anything to do with either of the enigmatic people.

"Indeed." Emmeryn nodded. "Now. Lady Robin, your thoughts on how to handle this threat?" At last. Forward progress.

 _ **-FE:DUL-**_

Five hours later, I was able to extricate myself from that mess. I was reasonably sure I had convinced the sane people in the room that they wouldn't be able to fight on the front lines well. I had yet to craft a truly effective plan for combating the numerical superiority of the Plegains, or at least, not one that didn't involve having Gri pull some kind of magical superweapon out. While the idea of a surgical strike against Gangrel was fantastic, I had to accept the idea that it wasn't going to be easy, and I wanted to leave Ylisse about to defend themselves.

Thus, I was hunting for the enigmatic woman, as she would probably possess the tome I had in mind. Plegia, outside of the Grimeal, had very few mages to speak of, at least, ones trained in defensive applications of magic. Historically, magic was the tide turning force in war, and although Miriel and Ricken were capable enough, I had little doubt that if we were going to win, or at least survive this mess, it would require Gri and I to pull out every trick we had, wide area magical destruction included.

"Robin." Said women, as it happened, was perusing the Ylissean Library, her fingers trailing the spines of books with a degree of reverence I had never seen from her. Emotions I had never seen in her before flickered in the depths of grey eyes, before they were gone again.

"Gri." Giving her a nod, I pulled my newest acquisition from its pouch at my hip. Cost me a small fortune, but it would be worth it. "Any tips on making this work? I haven't ever messed with magic this powerful before, and there really isn't time for me to learn." Her hands retreated into the depths of her cloak, expression flittering from a variety of expressions, which seemed to swallow her entire torso.

"Unfortunately, that is a spell that simply requires practice. There are no special tricks to be learned or anything of that sort." She turned, boots rasping on the stone. "Try not to blow any of your limbs off by accident. Mis-casting Thoron has a tendency to cause severe bodily harm." Even stranger than the way she ran her hand over books was her tone. Gri seemed…. smaller was the term I decided about. Out, wandering the continent, fighting Risen and Plegian's, Gri presented a near larger than life figure. Every motion she made was controlled, conveying the innate power she possessed. Where Marth was a nobleman, an elegant lethality, Gri was predatory, looking down upon everyone nearby, secure in her power.

Today, she radiated none of that magic. Instead, she floated across the stones, the only visible movement her feet. Even her cloak, normally alive and swirling about, was still, hanging off her shoulders.

"Gri!" Just before she vanished into another row of books, I called out. There was a pause, when I thought she was going to ignore me, before she started walking again.

"What?" her voice was softer too. Less…vicious.

I paused, before just plowing ahead. Despite all the oddity that surrounded her, Gri was a friend…somewhat. And if she was me, or related to me somehow, as I was increasingly convinced she was, perhaps this was important. "Is something bothering you?"

Silence, for a long while. "Just…burdened by experience." I hid a sigh, as usual Gri didn't make a lick of a sense. "And I have recently been reminded of my failures." Silence for a while. "Cling to your devotion to your allies, Robin…. lest you end up broken and embittered." Like many of Gri's proclamations, the words carried the weight of experience to them, although, considering her mien, I found them odd. Gri had never been introspective. She, somewhat like me, seemed to prefer getting to the heart of the problem, instead of sitting around stewing about it.

"I will keep that in mind." A pause, as I tried to find the appropriate words. Gri, however, filled the void on her own.

"See that you don't." With a soft rasp of leather on stone, she was gone, vanishing further into the library, leaving me to stare at the spot she had been in confusion. As a wandering warrior, I could suppose Gri had seen more than her fair share of death but her personality was not exactly conducive to having a lot of friends, so why she's caution me about maintaining bounds with my comrades was…unusual. This entire thing was unusual.

"Lady Robin?" I jumped, my whirling thoughts having preventing me from noticing someone coming up behind me. "Are you alright?" Sumia. Her heels clicked heavily on the floor as she emerged from the shelves. Given how much trouble the footwear gave her, I was surprised she still wore it around the castle.

Shaking off the thoughts of Gri, and whatever her latest ominous proclamation might have meant, I offered the Pegasus rider a smile. "Just fine. Lost in my own thoughts I suppose. Trying to organize the defense of an entire kingdom is remarkably exhausting." And a task I was woefully unprepared for, although I had at least known that part going in.

"Chrom says you yelled at a bunch of noblemen earlier?" Sumia giggled, no doubt imaging me screaming incoherently, or something equally embarrassing. "He seemed quite pleased with it."

Allowing myself to snort, I slipped the Thoron tome back into my cloak. "I'm glad one of us is." In truth, my outburst at the nobility, despite having the Exalt's tacit approval was bothering me. I was not prone to fit of extreme anger like that. Such outbursts showed a lack of composure and collectedness under pressure. While it was true my words might have intimidated the nobles into doing what I wanted for now, I couldn't imagine that lasting for long, and those consequences would probably be painful.

"Er…I don't think it's a bad thing." As always, Sumia managed to sounds slightly regretful of saying something bad of other people. "They're kinda jerks. And they make everyone's lives miserable."

"That doesn't make yelling at them any better." I countered. "Staying calm is important in a fight, whether with swords, magic, or words alone."

 _Wise words, little mortal._ The words echoed around in my head, seeming to reverberate within my skull.

Ignoring the voice, I managed to refocus towards the end of Sumia's reply. "-Help me with this spell?" Fortunately caught enough to not make an idiot of myself it seemed.

"I can try." Following Sumia out of the room, I tried to put Gri out of mind. As mysterious as the woman could be, she also tended to present the answers to her problems with time.

 _She is mine Mortal. Just as you will be._

 _ **-FE-FDUL-**_

"Lady Robin? A word if I may?" Emmeryn's voice drifted from the door to the courtyard, or what was left of one. Learning new magic was always a destructive process, but this particular spell was proving exceptionally tricky.

Slipping the tome into the convenient loop at my hip, I gave Emmeryn a nod, moving to sit on a nearby rock where my cloak was. "What can I do for you My Lady?"

Surveying the destruction for a moment, the Exalt gave a long sigh. "I would like to apologize for my advisors. There words and actions were reprehensible to the extreme." I opened my mouth to reply, when she held up a hand. "I do not blame you for your actions Lady Robin." Didn't stop me from doing so. "I appreciate your help…I did not wish for things to end this way."

"It is becoming my experience that such situations rarely end as we would like." Scowling at the dirt, I brushed come soot off my tunic. "Since meeting Chrom, I'm been involved in more crazy events that I can begin to guess I was in my old life. In less than two months, I've gone from just some nobody to commanding the armies of a kingdom. I haven't really gotten the time to process things, making it all rather overwhelming."

 _You have taken your rightful place Mortal._ And acquired a voice in my head, but I chose to avoid telling Emmeryn that. The same voice that had whispered in my ear just after I joined the Shepherds properly, then telling me to learn Gri's secrets. Since then, it had gone silent, only returning after the battle on the southern Isle.

"That is understandable." The Exalt padded across the courtyard. "Chrom told me of your situation. Your memories have not returned?"

That was the question. "Yes and no." Thumbing the hem of my cloak, I huffed. "Little tidbits come in random flashes, gone before I can really grasp them. My name. My skills in magic and swordplay. My supposed skill at military command. That I was born in Plegia." A sneer twisted my lips. "It's remarkably frustrating; to hardly know who you are."

Unsurprisingly, Chrom's sister didn't have a quick reply to that. My situation was, to my knowledge, unique, and thus, I wouldn't expect her to empathize with it very well. "I think, Robin, what matters is what you make of yourself, not who you were born as." My lips thinned, turning my head just enough to give Emmeryn a one eyed glare. "You have no doubt heard about my Father's war?"

"A long, bloody and pointless conflict driven by stupidity and racism, yes." Chrom had told me Emmeryn hated the war, and I didn't think it was wrong to criticize it so. "Almost two decades of continuous fighting which had left a legacy of bitterness in Plegia, and whose scars Ylisse still bears." I paused. "Gangrel appears to have gained the throne as a result of the power vacuum that was created by the war, prior to the resurgence of the Grimeal as a political force in the country. Over all, the fighting did not advance Ylisse in any way, and did little to actually diminish Plegia. A waste."

She gave a long sigh, head dropping. "An accurate and to the point summary of the situation." Her fist clenched. "A Plegian assassin killed my Grandmother, and Father never forgave the entire country. In his desire for vengeance, he dragged us into a conflict from which our two countries may not yet recover…especially with this new storm." Head dropping, her fists clenched, balling the loose folds of her robe tightly. "Thousands of my people are going to die, all for the desires of a maniac on a throne."

That, at least, was true. No matter what I did, thousands of people would die. My abilities wouldn't change that. Casualties happened in large scale engagements. When it was just the Shepherds, we could pull more miraculous feats off, but with an army, it would be impossible, leaving my job mitigating the losses.

"If only there was some way I could get through to the Plegian people that I mean them no ill. That I am not my Father." I got the feeling that Emmeryn had forgotten I existed, and was now simply speaking to herself.

"Give it time." I cut in. Emmeryn jumped, head turning towards me. "Changing minds isn't a quick process. You don't have the luxury of having a person like me, with no memories, to build a fresh viewpoint of your country…and you. In time, they will realize that it is Gangrel who is their enemy. You are a good ruler Lady Emmeryn, adored by your people. This war is not fault of your own." While I didn't completely agree with the words coming out of my mouth, I knew that having the leader of Ylisse wavering at such a juncture would be foolish. She needed to be strong for her own people.

Emmeryn gave a weak chuckle. "Perhaps not. I simply swore I would not lead my people into a conflict such as this again."

"And you won't." I stood, knocking a few more bits of soot away from my sleeves. "I am not going to lead your people into a pointless war, My Lady. IF the Plegian's come, we will fight, but I will not invade. We aren't going to seek out battle with them." Not quite a lie. Taking just the Shepherds into Plegia to assassinate Gangrel wouldn't constitute an 'invasion' per se. Coming to stand beside her, I spun my hand, conjuring a schoolyard flame with absent ease. Flickering light cast odd shadows about the two of us. "There will be those amongst their ranks who question the purpose of this war, and the longer it goes on, the greater their numbers will grow."

Giving a nod, Emmeryn glanced towards the fire I had conjured. "I only pray that you are correct." Turning, she started back into the castle again.

"Lady Emmeryn?" Since the start of this conversation something had been bothering me. "Why do you address me as a Lady?"

To my immense surprise, she laughed aloud. "Call it a hunch Robin. You carry yourself in a particular manner. And your skill with magic is to be commended. Not many people can wield spells as your do."

Feeling my cheeks flush a bit, I didn't manage to conjure an answer by the time she was gone.

 _You see? Even that one recognizes your powers!_ And, my mental companion was back again. _Claim the power that is your mortal!_

I had a couple theories about what that voice was, and none of them were good. Grabbing my cloak, I started into the castle after Emmeryn. It was getting far too late to practice magic regardless.

 _ **-FE:DUL-**_

"Robin!" Cordelia found me walking the halls somewhat lost in my thoughts. "Can I have a moment?"

"Of course." It seemed, over the course of today, everyone wanted to see me for something. The only person I was missing at this point was Marth, but no doubt he'd appear from the woodwork at some point.

"Have you had the time to ask Lady Gri about putting protective runes on armor instead of just your cloaks?" She seemed somewhat breathless, as though having run a considerable distance.

I opened my mouth to say I had not, in truth with everything happening, and the strangeness involving Gri I had no time at all to ask the woman about alterations to the layout of protective magic's. _It will work Mortal. Although they will drain the girl swiftly._ For once the voice offered something that might have passed for helpful advice.

"It should be possible." Cordelia's smile was small but triumphant. "I haven't had time to figure out how the runes will need to be rearranged yet, but it can be done." Technically, that was a lie. Rearranging the runes was easy. Just a matter of etching them smaller, and closer together. Although books might want you to believe that such a thing could end up being horribly destructive, in reality it was harmless to do so. Runic magic was rarely practiced, because it took so much time to set up, and couldn't produce any effect more complex than conventional spell work, but it had its uses, and apparently whoever I was before losing my memories, I had thought it useful.

"Excellent." Cordelia paused. "I'm guessing the engravings must be silver or some other metal?" She was certainly a fast study in magic. Given my recent troubles with learning, I felt a quick flash of frustration, before tamping it down. Cordelia and I were at very different points in our studies, so it would make sense she picked things up quickly. Theory was very different from the complex act of casting combat spells.

"Silver or platinum, if you can find enough." I agreed, before adding, "Just something different from steel. You could technically use gold, although that would be a bit expensive." Very expensive. Not to mention, it would look horribly tacky. The only reason cloaks like my own or Gri's did not was become garish was that the thread we stitched the runes in was almost the same color as the cloak itself, and according to Gri, 'when you're standing in the center of a volcanic eruption without taking a scratch, people are too busy cowering in terror to worry about appearance', or something close to that.

"Got it." Cordelia nodded. "How long will we be staying in the castle?" A very good question, and one I didn't have a good answer for.

"A few days at least." I'd hedge my bets on that, at least. "We aren't going to invade Plegia, so we'll be staying here for a few days." I paused. "We all need to take a bit of a break, to keep ourselves healthy and sane."

"Yeah…" Silence for a while. "…Robin? If I…if I ask you something, can you promise not to freak out?" Stopping, I took in Cordelia's expression. Her weight was settled onto her back leg, eyes drifting about. Both her hands were gripping her skirt tightly, and her jaw set oddly.

"Of course?" Trying to keep my apprehension aside, especially as Cordelia stepped into a room off the hall, and shut the door. When her hand pressed into the door, whispering a simple warding spell, I felt a spike of concern.

"Do you hear…voices? In your head? Telling you that you have power and things like that?" her voice dripped with genuine fear, which was more than reasonable, given that anyone sane person would tell you that hearing voices was a sure sign of, well, insanity. For a moment, I considered telling her to ask Gri, as the woman was more knowledgeable in magic than myself. "They started after the battle where we met Donnel, and it's been getting worse." Ah. Interesting.

 _Lie._ Speaking of voices.

"…Yes." Taking a deep breath, I shrugged. "Once or twice." A simple lie, really. "I don't have a good guess as to what it might be…no memories jump out at me." Anmesia was a convenient excuse. "I intend to do some looking tomorrow, however, if you want to join me?"

Cordelia seemed both relieved and more terrified by those assertions, however, she did manage a shaky nod in response to my offer. Giving her an excuse about having something or another to do, I slipped from the room,

Naga preserve me.

 _Your so-called Divine Dragon will not do a thing for you Mortal!_

- _ **FE:DUL-**_

Night had at fully fallen, and I found myself stalking the castle gardens, unwilling to attempt to sleep just yet. My thoughts drifted about, dozens of differing ideas competing for a limited portion of my attention. Whatever the strange voice that I, and apparently Cordelia heard. Emmeryn's woes, and the rising war with Plegia. My outburst at the nobility…and Gri.

"You seem somewhat troubled." Chrom fell into step with me, slipping out of the shadows from who only knew. The fact I was so distracted that I missed the presence of someone nearby did little to assuage my concerns about my own mental state.

"Yes." With a sigh, I gestured vaguely into the night. "Things are moving Chrom, moving very quickly, and it feels like I'm losing my grip on them." We kept walking for a bit, and I allowed my gaze to drift skyward. "I spoke to Gri today."

"Heh." Chrom cut in. "Yeah, she was weird this morning. All quiet and moody." A small note of bemusement crept into his voice. "Hiding in the library of all places, and staring at books as if they were the most amazing thing she'd ever seen."

"Not the most amazing thing, but they saddened her." I wasn't sure what prompted me to offer the correction, but it seemed appropriate. "It was…unsettling." I decided against telling Chrom what the enigmatic woman had said for now.

"Yeah…" He trailed off, as we rounded a corner.

There, standing in the shadows of a nearby hedge, were Gri and Marth.

Marth was tense, his left foot positioned slightly forwards, a position that was similar to his combat stance, and would allow him to be ready for a fight at a moment's notice. Gri stood a pace or so back behind the masked swordsman, cloak wrapped tightly around her. The diminished air she had taken on earlier in the day was replaced by a subtle frision of power from just looking in her direction. Her eyes flickered from side to side, as though watching for danger, and it was with a hint of worry that I noticed neither of her hands were visible.

"The Exalt is in danger." Marth spoke without preamble, words unflinching, even as Chrom scoffed. Given the abrupt nature of the such a proclamation I was inclined to agree that dismissing it on principle was warranted, yet, something about the way Marth made me pause.

"Emmeryn?" Chrom shook his head. "That's absurd. She is guarded every hour of the day." I had yet to review any of those protocols, but I assumed they were entirely comprehensive. Turning my attention to Gri, I shivered. Her eyes were swirling with magic, little flecks of black light twirling about them, never quite sitting in the same place. She was tense, far to tense, it seemed to me, almost as if she was… afraid? A breeze ruffled the hem of her cloak, letting moonlight dance off her armored boots, and revealing the soft glow of the runes on her cloak.

 _She had nothing to be afraid of. She is MINE!_ So, that was…helpful.

Marth's lips pursed, his already sharp expression tightening down even further. "What if…" A deep breath. "What if I told you I have seen the future? A future where Emmeryn is killed. Here. Tonight." Gri let out a soft hiss, her cloak shifting, possibly her hands moving towards a sword. "Would you believe me?"

No.

"Seen the future? Have you lost your wits?" Chrom shook his head. Gri's eyes narrowed, her head shaking a bit, allowing a few locks of her hair to fall across her face. Growling in what I assumed to be frustration, Marth's hand dropped to his Falchion.

"Yes, I expected you wouldn't believe me." Despite the resigned nature of his words, his conviction remained. "Allow me to prove it."

Metal rasped as he drew Falchion, holding Chrom's gaze the entire while. Pulsing with a gentle magic in Marth's hand, the blade cast a soft light, filling the small area of the gardens. Chrom took a step back, hand falling to his own sword. Gri's magic flared, this time, her cloak rustling as her hand moved towards one of the swords at her left hip, based on the way the fabric bulged.

"I'm about to save your life." Marth continued with that implacable certainty. With a flick of the wrist, his Falchion arced into the air. "From him." Arm snapping out, pointing towards the bushes. Before the rest of us could respond, Marth sprang into the air, leaping impossibly high, cloak flapping as he started to flip.

From the bushes, exactly where Marth had pointed burst a swordsman, face obscured by a cowl. Blade held high, the new arrival charged towards Chrom. I was halfway through the words of a spell, when I realized I would be to slow.

With a thump, Marth hit the ground, snatching Falchion from the air, bringing the blade down in a simple crosscut that severed the spine of the assassin, all in a single motion. With a gurgle, the man careened into the earth sword clattered to the earth as Chrom's feet, blood pooling from the newly created corpse. The entire action took less than a pair of second.

"Bloody hell…." The curse slipped out before I could think, as my eyes darted to Gri. Despite the suddenness and violence of what had just happened, Gri seemed remarkably unperturbed, neither of her hands emerging from her cloak, even her expression was unchanged. Our eyes locked, and one of her eyebrows cocking just a bit, a questioning gesture.

"I trust this proof will suffice?" For the first time, a hint of frustration bled into Marth's tone, Falchion lowering to his side. I got the distinct impression the young man was running out of patience with us, if only from the tightening of his shoulders.

Chrom gave me a look, before offering Marth a slow nod. "Yeah…" He sounded as if he wanted to say more, but before he could, another assassin leapt from the foliage, screaming. This time, however, instead of Chrom they were aiming for Marth.

It was an incredible reaction, considering. Marth twisted with a remarkably feminine yelp of surprise. Landing awkwardly, the warrior rolled, and something metal clattered.

Before I could get a good sense of what had made the metallic clattering, the entire courtyard was illuminated brilliant white, blotting out vision completely. When I managed to blink the stars away, the assassin was dead. Gri's lightning blast had simply removed a substantial portion of his torso from existence. Her left hand extended from her cloak, expression bland as always, as though she hadn't just performed a feat of magic that most would consider impossible.

Marth rolled upright, Falchion gripped tight in a high guard. What caught my attention however was the distinct lack of the previous mask, which apparently had done a lot more than just hide _her_ eyes. Hair now flowed down her back, as well as framing a face that, when unobstructed, was most definitely feminine.

"You're a woman?" Chrom tried to demand, but it came out as more of a shocked squawk.

Gri snorted, hands vanishing back into the folds of her cloak again. A palpable aura of power hung about the enigmatic woman as she fixed Chrom with a glare. "Yes, and you are a damnable idiot for not figuring it out. The evidence was entirely before you." Her words dripped with acid, yet, her expression carry the insult through. Rather, I got the impression she said the words because they were what we would expect from her.

"It is possible that I am simply a good actress." Marth challenged. Her voice wasn't that different, I realized with a start. Perhaps lighter, and less…deliberate than it was a moment before but this young woman had managed to convince us of an identity with nothing but a mask and hairstyle it seemed. Well, her garb and armor where not exactly feminine, but neither was any sensible armor.

"Perhaps." There was a pause, Gri's head tilting back. Her magic swelled, cloak flaring out in a dramatic fashion. "Regardless-"

A thunder-clap rocked the castle, staggering all four of us.

"What was that?" Chrom spun, Falchion drawn, eyes wide with concern.

"The attack here was intended merely to wound you, Prince Chrom." Resonating with magic, Gri's words reverberated throughout the garden, her presence seeming to grow. "The real attack has begun. We should make haste." Without further words, she took off running towards the castle, Marth by her side. Chrom and I exchanged a look, before racing after them.

Inside, the castle was chaos. Soldiers and servant scrambled about, most obviously confused as to what was happening. Marth and Gri projected enough of a presence that the crowds parted before us, and so we made good time an antechamber near the Exalt's quarters, where a panicked Lissa, and equally unsettled Frederick greeted us.

"Mi'Lord!" The Knight was scowling. "What is going on?"

"We're under attack." Chrom panted, shaking his head. "I'm not sure by who."

"Grimeal." Gri hissed the name of the Cult as though it was a curse. "Who else would Gangrel entrust such an act too?" I shuddered. Such certainty. I had hoped to avoid conflict with the cult if at all possible, but that was seeming less and less likely by the minute. "They are here for the Exalt."

"Collect the rest of your allies quickly Prince Chrom." Marth snapped. "Lady of Grima?" She turned to Gri. "We should confirm our suspicions." Gri offered a solemn nod, eyes flashing.

"We will return shortly." Taking a few steps, Gri paused. "Robin. Expect fighting within the castle itself. The army is unlikely to hold them off for long." With that ominous proclamation, they vanished down the halls, leaving a dozen questions unanswered on my lips.

* * *

 **AN: And things happen!**

 **Also, super late, because of how much fixing this chapter took. Well rewriting a ton of stuff, such as the entire scene where 'Marth' is revealed as female. Completely redone almost from the ground up…and actually wasn't originally a Robin POV chapter, but nothing was working for the others so…we have some Robin, which is good. Almost forgots about a couple plot elements…and things happened. Next chapter will probably be a while, to encompass the attempted assassination. There's going to be some of all three POVs for that.**

 **Oh. and Echoes. Echoes happened. And I'm now rewriting like half of the mythology of this bloody story to be in line with Echoes because I like the mythos Echoes provides. Not that it matters quite yet but that's a thing. Well it matters by the end of this part of the story, but that's farther off than anticipated because I've found more and more missing bits and pieces as I edit. In theory, this will end up about the 35 chapters that I have in my folder…although in a very different configuration…my numbering scheme is a mess. My word doc for this is chapter 23, it's actually chapter seventeen, and my fanfiction doc is nineteen I think (This was in fact correct, as two weeks later Muse got to discover, when I realized I forgot to fix the chapter number here. So yay for that. Now fixed). So…that's a thing. But not terribly important. Just 2:30 am ramblings. Now that this is done, I'm going to sleep, so I can play more Echoes tomorrow.**

 **Reviews, questions, concerns, things I've contradicted myself on by accident? Let me know. I appreciate it quite a bit.**


	21. Chapter Nineteen: Assassination

**Chapter Nineteen: Assassination**

 **Lady of Grima: Gri**

Sounds of fighting rang throughout the halls of the castle as Lucina and I reappeared near the gates. Or, what was left of them. Bits of metal and wood littered the earth, evidence of the defensive structures having been blown apart by some spell or another. Despite this, the guards, few as they were, had rallied, and were making a good show of defending the breech, if the blood on their weapons was any indication.

Pegasus Knights, only a few, but present none the less, swooped up and over the walls, their riders singed and bloodied. "They've got more mages!" A vague shout drifted down, as they circled, before coming in for a landing. "We scared them off for the moment, but it won't last for long!" I traded a glance with Lucina as we approached the group.

"My Lady!" A man wearing Lieutenant's regalia waved to us as we neared. The entire Castle had apparently picked up on the way I was addressed by the Shepherds in less than a day. "We're doing all we can!" All they could wouldn't be enough, but that was more by virtue of the attackers than any deficiency of them.

"Fall back to the castle." Closing my eyes, I tightened my grip on Falchion, letting the weapons innate magic pulse down my limbs, letting my heartbeat pick up slowly. "We will hold them here as long as possible." Eyes snapping open, I have the officer a sharp nod. "Find your Prince. He and Lady Robin will be organizing the defense."

"You've done well." Lucina added, as the man saluted, calling the fallback. It took the Ylissean soldiers only a few moments to fall back into the castle, leaving us standing alone in the now destroyed gates. "You can feel them, can't you." Her tone was mostly question, although I was quite certain she knew the answer, considering the brilliant light both our Falchion's cast.

"Grimeal." Shaking my hair from my eyes, I tapped the Thoron tome at my hip, feeling the sizzling magic running through its pages. "Powerful ones. They're raising dead to supplement their soldiers."

Stepping into the ruins of the gate, we faced down the attacking force. They weren't large, but I couldn't see how someone would have missed a group of soldiers at least two hundred strong moving across the countryside. Even if the Grimeal hadn't starting raising dead until they got into the city, this was ridiculous. Someone should have noticed and raised the alarm. Regardless, their numbers, even with the Risen, were not terribly impressive, and with some creative magic, Lucina and I were more than capable of dealing with the entire group.

That, however was not the object here.

With a snapped word lightning rippled from before me, striking the chest of the nearest soldier and fizzling into nothing but a bright flash of light.

"Wards." Lucina mumbled. "They came prepared." They did indeed. Which was…annoying. I had hoped to avoid using truly powerful battle-magic just yet. "I did not expect this from the Grimeal." Truthfully neither would I.

Before I could reply, fireballs were flying towards us, followed closely by soldiers, screaming with manic glee.

" _Thoron!"_ It was a rush, power welling deep inside me, before hurtling down my arm and across the seventy feet between me and the two spell casters. Just like with the assassin in the gardens, they had no chance to defend themselves, my spell simply consuming their weaker fireballs, before cutting down the closer on in and explosion of lights as his innate wards shattered, and his life ended. Spare magic skittered off the breaking wards, striking the other mage, who spasmed, screaming painfully as his life was claimed.

Twirling Falchion a few times, I offered a derisive sneer towards the still smoking corpses. With a soft rattle of metal, Lucina stepped up to my right, settling into her familiar stance, the bright white of Falchion no doubt blinding to our attackers. For a moment the strange nature of this situation, the Champions of two diametrically opposed Gods facing down a small assassination force outside the Ylissean castle.

Then the charging soldiers arrived. Parrying an axe, and flicking it away from Lucina's back, I continued the motion impaling the owner, before leaving him to die, gurgling on his own blood. His thrashing corpse tripped up the next attacker. I removed that one's head in a smooth back cut, before twirling behind Lucina, smoothly transitioning to her opposite side. One of the surviving casters apparently was a wind-mage; I parried his spells with a hail of fireballs, before slaying another soldier with a thrust to the chest. Armor sheared under Falchion's edge.

Ducking under a clumsy axe, I rolled forwards, taking the knees off a pair of Risen. Skidding to a halt I rose, parrying one blade, before sliding Falchion down its length and putting its wielder out of their misery. Yanking my weapon free, I turned, weaving between more Risen. Instinct's scream in my ears, and I twisted, just in time to see a Plegian soldier lunging towards me, his blade flashing in the moonlight.

 **Lady of Naga: Lucina**

Letting another axe blow skitter off Falchion, I gave ground, causing two soldiers to over extend on their thrusts, opening them up for easy strikes to the throat. Separating man and life, I instinctively rolled away from a spell, cutting the legs off a Risen as I came up, driving Falchion into the things chest as I stood. As the creature began to dissolve, Falchion pulsed with satisfaction.

Backpedaling from the incoming Risen, I took a moment to assess the situtation. Despite the kills, their numbers had continued to grow. By this point, Falchion blazed with the light of a sun, and across the field, Gri's blade was equally bright, Risen snarling and screaming in pain, despite what was happening.

From the right, I could see magic flashing, and hear the screams of men dying. Gri's methodical precision in death was terrifying to behold, leaving a trail of dying Risen and soldiers in her wake. Ignoring her for the time, being I turned back to those around me, grasping the powers of Falchion in the process. It was not to my surprise the Divine weapon gave its powers freely.

Four Risen died before they knew what was happening. Spinning the blade between my fingers, I bisected another, before sweeping the legs out of second, before spiking it to the cobblestones. Yanking the blade free, I allowed myself a grim smile as the monsters backed away.

Before I could rejoin the battle, something unleashed a massive explosion of magic. Risen nearby simply _evaporated_ as the wave of energy washed over them, while the regular fighting men were thrown backwards, losing their footing. Falchion chimed in my palm, letting the magic wash over me. Turning my attention across the battlefield to Gri, I couldn't hold in a gasp.

Gri had on a few occasions told me that I presented an image that was analogous to an ancient Goddess of War. If that was true, she'd have to accept that under the same logic, she was an ancient Goddess of Magic. Standing in the center of her blast crater, Gri's cloak was flared completely, writhing in the wake of her powers. Falchion burned in her right hand, sending strange shadows flitting about. Counter-pointing the Divine sword, her left hand was engulfed in magical energy.

With a twirl, Gri decapitated the only man who hadn't been tossed across the battlefield. Spinning on her heel, and leaving the headless corpse behind, she started across the now empty approach. Her expression was placid, seeming to suggest she hadn't blown apart an army of Fell monsters, or at the very least, that it was something she did on a regular basis…and to be fair, she probably did, at one point or another of her life.

"Lady of Naga." Despite radiating magic, her voice was largely the same, just…layered. More complex. "We should return to the others." Meeting her eyes, I shuddered. Normally, Gri's expression was cold, and it reflected in her eyes. Where other people's eyes would light up, Gri's would remain bland and cruel. Now, however, they spun and danced, little flecks of strange colors flashing across them for a moment at a time. Shaking that off, I offered Gri a short nod, and extended a hand. Gri accepted, and we were gone in a painful spray of light.

 **Tactician of Ylisse: Robin**

"If I don't know what I'm fighting, it's pretty hard to figure out how to fight it!" This entire day had been one disaster after another. Now we were under attack by something, Marth and Gri were apparently time travelers, here to stop…something, apparently our attackers were after the Exalt for who only knew what reason. I had barely been in the castle for an entire day, and most of that was consumed by more important things than figuring out how to defend it. That, I had assumed would be the job of the guards. But now, in the case of an attack, everyone turned to me again, and the two most powerful allies we had just vanished to do Gods only knew what. Presumably they were coming back, but I couldn't be sure.

I count not realistically defend an entire castle from an unknown number of attackers with just the Shepherds. Even with a small contingent of guards. Based on that explosion the outer defenses had been breached, and that meant it would be open season inside. Worse, a fair portion of the Shepherds rode mounts of various sorts, which were three floors down, and on the opposite side of the castle. Thus, a fair portion of my forces were severely hampered, and fighting in a way that was unfamiliar to them. A tactically untenable situation.

We were gathering in the ante-chamber for Emmeryn's private quarters while I poured over the floorplan of the castle. "Everyone is here Lady Robin." Fingering his lance Frederick stepped up to my left. "A group of guards have returned from the gates, and report that we are under attack by Plegian soldiers, as well as hordes of Risen. Apparently Lady Gri and Marth have engaged them in battle." His tone was disapproving, most likely of the recklessness of challenging the assassins head on, and where it anyone but Gri and Marth I would have agreed.

"Fantastic." At least if they were fighting _for_ us, I could assume they'd come back. Granted, the task of holding the castle was still going to be impossible. Gesturing to the map, I started talking. "If they are really coming for the Exalt, we only need to defend three major hallways, however doing so means we surrender the rest of the castle to them, something I am loath to do." Chrom's jaw tightened. "Given that our enemies are apparently raising the dead to fight against us, doing so opens us up for a protracted battle to retake our own capitol." Just as I finished speaking, Gri and Marth reappeared with the snap and snarl of magic. "So, find what you wanted?"

Marth grunted, flicking blood and viscera from its tip. "There are Grimeal. Raising the dead." Expression twisting with obvious hate, the woman went on, "We slowed them down, but they will recover shortly." Her Falchion was almost blinding to look upon, and I averted my eyes, returning to the map. "There are several Grimeal, I did not get a good look at how many however."

"Four, at least." Gri picked up smoothly. "Over a hundred Plegian's, and counting their Risen is pointless" They could raise that many? "When this is done, you need to have a serious discussion about security." Fabric rustled as her cloak continued swirling. "This is…a considerable force. The guards did some damage, but not nearly enough. Their commander is quite adept. Risen clog his enemies, and the real soldier cut them down."

Biting my tongue, I frowned. That was more soldiers than I bargained for. As much as I didn't want to, we had to accept the lower levels as lost for now. If nothing else, we could hold out until fresh troops could arrive from outside the city, and pincer the enemy between us. "Frederick, tell the guards to fall back. We'll engage on the approach staircases here, and here." I had to concede that the designer of the castle had planned for its defenses to fail with a reasonable degree of competence. There were only three points leading up to the third floor of the castle, each with plenty of points for arches and mages to rain hell down on the attackers. "And, here." I tapped each staircase. "There's enough open space for archers and mages to use magic attack those below us."

"Splitting our forces into three is going to leave us rather thin." Chrom mused, although he didn't seem to have any other opposition. Unfortunately, he wasn't wrong. With what I knew of the guard, we didn't have a lot of soldiers to help with the defense, but this was the best I could do.

"Gri and I will defend the eastern approach." Marth cut in, everyone snapping their attention to her, the obvious question forming on every set of lips. Her back stiffened under the scrutiny. "We don't have time for questions. You need to be ready for them, _now_."

"Lord Chrom!" Panting heavily, a soldier burst in, blood dripping from multiple wounds. "The enemy is inside the castle, and are heading this way! They're…. they've got monsters!" Risen then. My stomach twisted. I'd been ignoring the rising feelings of nausea, but they were there.

"Before we go." Marth turned, taking a few strides before pausing. "There will be one known as Panne arriving shortly. They are not your enemy." And we couldn't have been told about this earlier?

"Quite the prophet, aren't you…" Chrom frowned, giving me a question glance. I could only shrug, there was no way to guess what might be going on in either woman's head at this point. All I could hope was that this, 'Panne' didn't turn my plans into so much dust.

"As you say." Marth remained as inscrutable as always. Although her thoughts, and indeed her entire motivation were hidden from me, I wanted to trust her. "Regardless, I assure you, Panne is not your enemy." I heard her sigh, and her left fist clenched.

"They are coming." Gri's rumbling words washed over the assembled Shepherds. "Lady of Naga." As the woman turned, I caught sight of a sword in her hand. Shinning with Divine Fire, Falchion struck a painful contrast to the dark and malevolent aura of its wielder. "We are needed." Before I could fully process the weapon in her hand, never mind demand an explanation, Gri was gone, running down the halls, Marth in tow.

"You heard the woman." I stood, brushing what I had just seen aside. "Let's get moving. Keep to the stair tops for now, high ground is to our advantage." Shouts of acknowledgement filtered out, and I drew my sword, taking a shuddering breath. Time to put some of my vaunted skill to the test it seemed.

 **Lady of Grima: Gri**

"You're leaving them." I bit down a wince. Lucina's glare was fixed on the back of my head, a certain weightiness to the entire situation, which contrasted heavily with the reality that we were about to have this conversation on a field of war. Granted, there would be no other time to have it.

"Robin and the others are skilled enough now that they can defend themselves against the weaker Grimeal." Below, the stomach twisting magic of Grima began to swirl, a sure sign Risen were coming. "And I will do more good to preventing his return out in the world now. Killing Grimeal. Fighting Gangrel on my own." Lucina's aura twisted in time with some emotional flux, although I had little grasp for what it might have been. "Perhaps helping you find the others. In either case, I'm wasted here." Conjuring fire in my left hand, I glared into it, watching the tendrils of black seep into the flames, before I clamped down on myself. "Emmeryn's life is but the start. There are a thousand things that must be unmade. Your companions must be found." Taking a moment to dismiss the flame, I shrugged, knocking my hair back into place. "It is time I act, Lucina. Lady of Grima or not, I intend to be the agent of his destruction."

Upon the stairs, the first of the would be assassins was visible. Slinking along the shadows, no doubt believing himself safe. This approach was farthest away, and most likely the least well defended. A small team would doubtlessly try and pierce what defense existed here. A descent plan, in most situations.

"I see." Drawing even with me, Lucina shifted her stance, the only sign she'd seen our intruder. "I…" There was a pause, and she shook her head. Using the distraction, I flicked my wrist, letting the words roll off my tongue. With a strangle yelp, the assassin died, his corpse falling down the stairs in a sequence of muffled impacts. I felt some degree of amusement at sending that plan down along with my victim.

"It is time." Although I had unleashed my full aura outside the castle, I had pulled it back in when we returned. During the time I was with the Shepherds, I had done my best to keep my magic under control, both to avoid worrying their overly suspicious leadership, and because I been hiding my strength for so many years, it was an easy habit. A habit that had to end now.

It was invigorating, letting everything free, without unleashing a massive blast wave. My fingers sang, bits of energy sparking from their tips, even Falchion seemed to respond, I could feel the tendrils of its power worming up my arm, the Divine Weapon offering up its power to reinforce and strengthen my body. For the first time, seeming to acknowledge me as its wielder, or perhaps because the limited sentience of the sword understood that we shared a common purpose for now.

"Yes." To my left, Lucina shimmered, her own Blade pouring its power into her. A thin white sheen covered the younger woman, her eyes gaining a measure of internal glow. "It is."

Even as she uttered those words, another assassin came charging up the stairs, apparently having abandoned stealth in favor of pure shock value. At the woman's heels were half a dozen Risen. Lucina met them halfway down the steps, sword flashing out, the throat of the assassin slashed, Falchion carving two Risen apart in a single stroke. Not even pausing, she stepped back, swatting a clumsily wielded blade away, before driving a thrust into that Risen's throat. I flicked my wrist, mumbling the words. Lightning snapped, dissolving the last three Risen. The entire exchange took a second and a half at most.

Following down the stairs, I let magic fill my eyes, and the world shift and glow as I moved. Five assassins, easily visible by their aura's, despite their attempts to cower in the shadows. Letting the soul-taking incantation fall from my lips, I resettling my grip on Falchion, and allowed my Mage sight to fade.

Gurgling screams filled the air and in a clatter of metal and weapons, the assassins toppled from the darkness.

"Soul taking?" Lucina sheered the head off another Risen, only glancing at the new dead for a few seconds. Conventional wards did them no good against magic designed to rip out their souls. Perhaps it was more complex and vicious than required, but I wasn't going to take chances. Emmeryn's death had been the catalyst for Ylisse's eventual downfall, and my displaceable shit-sack of a Father rising to power.

"Correct. Swift and efficient-" At the fringes of my senses, I could feel magic pulsing from below, a throbbing steady hum that I dismissed as the mere presence of Grimeal, until there was a spike. This person was actively calling on Grima's magic, which was a trick that the regular nutcases were not taught. That meant… "No!" Taking a step forwards, I closed my eyes, dropping every barrier I kept up, and letting _power_ flood my veins. "Attend me!"

Everything shifted, as the Fell Dragon answered. Entombed, and weakened Grima might have been, but his soul recognized the call, and answered it. Five centuries had passed since I stood as I was born to be, a Vessel of Grima. My right hand burned, Falchion protesting, before falling silent as I submerged myself in Fell Power. Across the castle, Robin was weaving a spell, infusing her regular magic with dark power. In the courtyard, the Risen called the dead. Two more Grimeal led the primary resistance against the Shepherds. Several more specks of magic flared up, Cordelia, Sumia, Miriel and Ricken in turn if I had to guess. Regardless. Plenty of fighting was going on in the castle.

I shifted my attention however, letting my range extend farther outwards, looking, trying to convince myself I was wrong. That I wasn't feeling that magic again. _His_ magic.

It was. Far below, in the main courtyard, visible as a pillar of black fire in the greyscale world, was a magic that I knew by heart. One of the few people in the world I hated with every fiber of my being. Something behind my ears was roaring, a fury I thought I had put to bed years ago rekindled.

"Gri!" Lucina's shout echoed, about the chamber, only registering vaguely to my conscious mind. My Father was here. I would kill him. "What is going on!" My legs were moving on their own, muscles coiling for battle.

"He is here." Doing a few absent tricks with Falchion, I heard myself give a long hiss. "He is _here_." Stride lengthening, I found the next assassins, hunkered in the shadows near the stairs farther down. "Thoron!" Their souls flared brightly for a moment, before vanishing, snuffed out, another offering to Grima. Darkness would not save them from their fates.

"Who is here!" Lucina was running after me, her armor rattling, footfalls sharp. "Gri! You are not Grima! What is going on!" Her question was pleading

I paused, turning to face her. Standing four steps above me, Lucina glared down, Falchion lowered, as though that would prevent her from be ready to fight. Specs of white fire dripped from the tip of the weapon, from the end of her cape, even from the ends of her hair. Breathe. I reminded myself. Rushing into battle gets you and your allies killed. Leeson number one of military leadership. "Validar is here." Everything was…distant, as thought I was watching my own actions in memory instead of performing them. That was…that was not how things were supposed to work. "My Father is not supposed to be here Lucina. But he is going to die." Pulling some of my magic back in, I took a heavy breath. White specks danced through the sky blue of her eyes, before she gave a slow nod. My chest tightened, as pieces started falling into place.

"Then we had best get moving before he finds the others." Her expression settled on neutrality, the dripping far on her cap fading away.

"Yes." Flicking my wrist, I destroyed another Risen, fire consuming the creature without even a thought. There would be time for recriminations later.

 **Tactician of Ylisse: Robin**

After the third waves of assassins went crumpling back down the stairs, I made the choice we needed to follow them down, gather some degree of momentum before we got bogged down in hordes of Risen.

"Robin!" Chrom waved me over to an arrow slit as I came down the stairs, threading my way between the corpses. Even fighting at a considerable disadvantage, the Shepherds had handed the Plegian's a considerable butchers bill, which didn't even count the Risen. For a moment the fighting had lulled, only the low rippling incantations of Miriel and Ricken, and the occasional twang of a bowstring to break the silence. When I reached Chrom's side, he gestured. "There's at least two mages down there making more Risen as we kill them, this is getting nowhere fast."

I had noticed. Worse, they were both crafty enough to rarely come into sight of Virion, and had some kind of magical shield that was pretty effective at stopping arrows, letting them cheerfully conjure all manner of horrors relatively unmolested. The weight of numbers had not yet become overwhelming, but it was surely on a matter of time.

Taking a moment to assess the situation, I was less than enthusiastic about my conclusion. We had to keep pushing forwards, and pray that Gri and Marth had cleared the other wing from invaders.

"On my command, we keep pushing." Chrom frowned, before giving me a sharp nod and calling the new orders to the others. "I don't like it any better than you do Chrom." With a minor flicker of thought, I activated the runes on my cloak, the alien magic making my skin crawl, despite having plenty of time to be used to it. At least the nausea and headache had faded.

Timing for this charge was crucial. Watching the Risen's press falter, I was halfway to calling for the attack when something shifted. Magic, smothering in nature washed over me, swallowing the words. My stomach turned at the same moment my knees instinctively locked in an attempt to remain upright. Every inch of my skin crawled, as the magic continued to build. Below, the Risen howled, recoiling back and clutching at their heads.

Despite my best efforts, one of my knees buckled, dropping me to the stonework. Bits of blackness were starting to creep into my vision, a sure sign that my ragged breathing was catching up to me.

 _She is MINE!_ The roar echoed about my ears, stronger than ever before. _Just are you shall be! Cower mortal, before ME!_ There was no doubt who, or rather, what that voice was anymore.

Bits of Gri's words drifted across my fading consciousness. _"Gather your magic. Command it, do not let it command you."_ Eye's screwed shut, it wasn't hard to visualize the power the lurked beneath my skin, a swirling mass of colors, symbolic of the sledgehammer power that raw magic embodied. _"You have the potential to exceed any mage who has ever lived. Act like it."_

Taking hold of that magic, I pulled it free, encasing my entire body in a thin layer of raw _power_ , a sort of insulation against the sudden and incomprehensible power of faded away, and I could breathe again. Vision sliding back into focus, I waved away Chrom's concerned gaze, this wasn't the time for it. Especially because I had a sneaking suspicion that the Mages giving us such trouble a moment ago would be having considerable problems staying upright.

"Now!" Fire snapped into my hand as I whispered the words. Lightning was my prefered weapon, but I wanted the easier control for this battle.

It was a chaotic moment, as the Shepherds pushed down another level, nearly tripping over the dissolving corpses of Risen as they went. Cordelia got one of the summoning mages, blood spraying around her lance when it found his throat. Lon'qu and Panne killed the other, leaving him in a series of different pieces. Ignoring that gory sight, I lead the way down the halls of the castle, a headache growing with every moment, towards the entrance. Everything was suspiciously quiet as we moved. No fighting, no enemies. From the other side of the castle, Fell energy continued to pulse, and the voice in my head had reached a frenetic climax.

When we stepped into the courtyard, I was very glad I had been leading the way; a sphere of black energy ricocheting over my shoulder with enough actual force to stagger me.

In the center of the outer courtyard was a man, wearing a set of flowing robes that bore a striking resemblance to my own cloak. Clustered around him were a dozen or so Plegian soldiers, weapons gripping tight, stances tense.

Left hand extended from his spell, the man let his gaze sweep across us, features twisting into a sneer, a menacing expression was entirely at home on his sharply pointed face, the small white flash of teeth contrasting with dark skin and eyes. His gaze at last game to rest on me.

 _YES!_ Although I'd been ignoring the voice, this particular shout carried considerable psychic force. _Come to me!_ Our mystery assassin licked his lips, expression shifting to glee.

"Ow…" Shaking the shout induced head pain off, I managing to conjure a shield of lightning to deflect a second blast of Fell Magic, only to scream in pain as my metaphysical senses were dragged to in many directions. Trying to sustain the shield against ambient magic was too much, and I allowed it to drop, sagging to one knee as the waves of Fell energy hit me again, albeit weakened this time. "Damnit…"

"Robin!" Chrom was at my side in an instant. "Are you alright?"

No. I just did the single dumbest thing you can do in magical combat. "Yeah." Sheathing my sword, I kindled fire in my palms, knowing that, under the effects of this much magic, I'd be far too sloppy to use a sword. "Keep the regular ones off my back. I'll deal with the Grimeal." He gave me a sharp look, before nodding and calling out to everyone else.

Leaping down the stairs, I lobbed a few fireballs towards the Grimeal mage, both to cover the Shepherds attack and to test his defenses. None to my surprise, the mage swatted my attacks aside, letting them splatter against the stones harmlessly. That was bad. Most people would have simply directly blocked that sort of attack, instead of conserving energy.

Chanting a bit, I sent a string of Elfire blasts, giving each the small nudge to give the attack some variance. Two arrows of fire, one sword, and a pair of general purpose explosive fireballs, designed to get me closer.

"Ho!" Manic glee flashed in his eyes as he casual deflected the arrows, "Fate truly plies us with gifts tonight!" With a snap, he countered my remaining spells with spells of his own and followed up with a pair of giant fireballs. There was no time to dodge, and I was forced to conjure a pair of lightning shields, letting the flames skitter off. Releasing the modified _Elthunder spells,_ I back away, now considerably warier of my opponent. "Submit to me, Child, and I might tell you the truth." His words were sibilant, all but dripping with magical power.

 _KNEEL!_

I didn't bother replying. Despite my shields, I had felt the heat and energy of those fireballs. Even if I was rested and better prepared, trying to close with this man was foolish, his spells were simply too powerful. A single hit would be the end of me, even with my defenses.

Snapping my arm out, I whispered spells. Energy snapped as a bolt of solid lightning flew. He parried with blades of wind, bleeding my spells energy and finally sending it harmlessly skywards, before turning to the next, this time simply countering the spinning hammer of electrical current outright. My third spell, an elongated fireball this time, was countered by an inky black…something, which signaled the start of his counterattack.

" _Elthunder!"_ Spears of flame came first, which I simply dove away from. Rolling upright, I conjured more shields of lightning, screaming as the power required to block four massive scythes of wind raced down my arms. Two shields shattered, and the third buckled, but held, only inches from me. Panting, I release the spell, whipping a series of wind blades of me own back, and following them up with a series of _basic Arcthunder_ bolts.

"Amusing, child." The mage laughed, waving his hand, that same inky spell swallowing my attack once again. "You have put on a good show, but now it is time too-"

Just as we could give our spells different shapes, we could will them to do more practical things. Like act faster. Whispering the word, I threw my hand out, letting the low power, but high speed bolt of energy at last score a definitive blow against my opponent. Flashing white and yellow across his wards, the spell ran its course without doing any real damage.

"Ex Astris: Silcaria!" Apparently, revealing I had enough a grasp of magic to sneak something past his formidable guard meant the Grimeal mage was down playing around.

My heart twisted, beating irregularly as his aura pushed outwards, preceding the spell he had cast. Despite this, his aura was weaker than the one that had engulfed the castle only minutes before. A lump settled into my throat.

There was no time for reflection however, as shadow knives exploded from his sleeves, conjured by Grima's twisted magic. Throwing myself to the side, I toss a pair of fireballs two I wasn't able to avoid by rolling. There was a momentary roar as the spells made contact, before my magic simply ceased to be.

Pain lanced down my shoulder, conjured weapon burying itself in the bone, pinning my cloak at an awkward angle. The other, mercifully ricocheted off my bicep. Apparently whatever this spell was, it was outside the protection my cloak could offer. Coming back to my feet, I tried to form a spell, when everything became pain. I left the ground, hurtled backwards.

Clattering across the earth, I spat out blood, pushing myself to one knee. Whatever that spell was, getting hit with it a second time would probably kill me. From the corner of my eye, I could see bits of magic swirling about the wards of my cloak, and the skin beneath those points was burning hot.

"Ex Astris: Dominus!" A note of definitive triumph had entered my enemies tone.

I wasn't sure where the spell came from, everything happened to swiftly to comprehend. "Ex Astris: Caprius!" Where my foe's strike was a needle of void flashing across the courtyard, barely visible even to a trained eye, I retaliated with a massive blast wave of sheer psychic force that cratered the stonework before me, hurling poorly anchored chunks flying, and even knocking the mage backwards a few steps.

"Your resistance is amusing." All traces of mania were gone from his expression now, a tranquil sort of rage having taken its place. "However, you will _submit!"_

"No…thanks." Using the short reprieve to force myself back into a standing position I palmed the Thoron tome at my hip. Pain. Focusing the time was pain. Yet, I didn't have a choice. I couldn't lose. There was too much at stake. "Insane gods bent on ending the world are not the sort I care to work for." Speaking left me tasting cooper, and my head pounded harder still.

"Foolish girl." Brandishing a tome, the Grimeal glare down, his robes flapping wildly in his aura. "You don't have a choice in this matter. You will submit to Lord Grima!" The rune on the cover of his tome started to glow, a sure sign of a building spell.

Gathering what power I had left, I clenched my left fist. The inside of my glove was sticky, no doubt with blood. That suited my purposes just fine. This spell had to work, no matter the cost. Magic would take whatever it could, and I would make sure that was there, eldritch energies to be shaped by my will.

Arcane words rolled of my tongue, magical power building in my chest, just waiting for the final words, to focus and command it forth. Laughing, my enemy raised his hands, spell seemingly completely. I started the final words, letting my chant become heavier, ringing across the entire courtyard. Before I could release the magic however, a new presence washed over the battlefield, and I lost control

In a flash of white energy, the Thoron bolt erupted from my palm, slamming into the fully formed spell of my foe. Obviously weaker, my spell spluttered, the brilliant yellow-white swallow in a wave of blackness. I took a breath, gathering what magic I could still grasp for a final defense.

"Enough of this." Suddenly, Marth was before me, whatever the spell was splattering harmlessly about the cone of white light her Falchion cast. "You've failed Validar." Marth's back was to me, but that didn't diminish the weighty fury of her words. White flames were dripping off her cape and hair, even Falchion seemed to be burning. Her entire presence was…Divine, a thin sheen of magic coating the woman. Taking a few steps forwards, Marth settled her feet, blade extended. Something about her made me want to run screaming in mortal terror, if my limbs weren't exhausted comply.

"What's this?" Validar arched an eyebrow, seeming otherwise unconcerned by the woman before him. "You do not belong here…"

Marth didn't reply, resuming her advance for another four steps, before stopping, and lowering Falchion to her side. Validar's eyes flared with triumph, and I tried to shout a warning already feeling the magic building up.

" _No."_ Everything came to a halt.

Shaking the entire courtyard, Gri's voice wasn't just laden with magic. It was Magic. Validar's spell fizzled out halfway to Marth, as though it had never been. My legs shook, as a moment later, Gri appeared.

It was her teleportation spell, lightning flickering her into existence at Marth's side, yet, it wasn't. there was no surge of magic, no flash of light, or thunderclap of sound. Rather, on one side of a blink, the spot was empty, in the next, Gri was present, magical lightning howling and spitting off every bit of her frame.

Given that Validar was not strong enough to create the Fell presence I had felt, the only logical conclusion was Gri, but I hadn't quite realized what that meant until I found myself on all fours, dry heaving, vision swimming out of focus, my head splitting itself in half. Even trying to think hurt, never mind the effort to life my head and watch what transpired.

Moving forwards, Gri's mere presence seem to bend the air, light itself afraid to pass to close to her. " _Fool."_ Validar screamed. I screamed. Someone else was screaming as well, in the distance. I fell sideways, distantly aware that Validar had collapsed to his knees as well.

"H-h…how?" He struggled the word out, choking on every syllable.

The way she laughed was chilling. A perfect counterpoint to the layered alto notes of her voice, lending those same notes a menacing undercurrent. " _How? Why, Father…I'm offended."_ My vision cleared for a moment, the weighty magic fading away. My limbs spasmed in relief, muscles uncoiling as best they could. Gri whispered a word I didn't know, and Validar was hoisted up by his own shadow. _"You don't recognize your daughter?"_ She was close enough to touch him now, words coming in a hiss, dripping a sort of twisted delight.

Validar's eyes bulged, and he began to thrash in his bonds, lips moving without quite managing to form words.

 _"I've always wanted to do this…"_ lilting, Gri seemed almost whimsical, Falchion pulsating in her right hand, her left shrouded in black fire. Cloak swirling, sudden spike of magic causing it to billow in time with her left hand's rising.

I saw the beginnings of the spell start to swallow Validar, before I was screaming. Tears flooded my eyes, I was vomiting through the scream, curled into a ball. Everything was pressing down, I wasn't breathing, my eyes were black.

Someone else was screaming, for a moment. I barely noticed the screams turn into a gurgle, and then fade into nothing.

I could breathe again, my limbs uncoiling as the tension faded from the muscles. Blinking tears away, I had time to see Gri stumble back, swaying on her feet, and Marth moving to wrap a hand around her shoulder, before both women were swallow in a bolt from the heavens, and vanished in a single, resounded crack.

In their place was a pile of perfectly polished bones, a human skeleton, gleaming in the moonlight.

* * *

 **AN: And done.**

 **So. That battle is done. And was remarkably hard to write parts of (never mind edit. 1 am. Muse is fucking shit at fight scenes. The original Robin and Validar fight was an embarrassment). Hopefully I did the Robin and Validar fight okay… for anyone curious, Robin really is just that outclassed. Validar is presumably at least 20 years older than she is, and a priest of Grima. And has all his memories. Robin is good, and plenty powerful but she's just flat outmatched. Hopefully that showed.**

 **Gri by contrast… well….even if she hadn't gone all Grima on him, would have smeared Validar across the floor. High Priest he might be, but Gri is a totally different league. Poor guy. Actually no, he isn't. He got what was coming, and will again. Although that battle will be substantially more badass on Validar's part.**

 **Also, some fun facts for you that aren't apparent because Robin couldn't see them, and changing POV's mid-fight isn't something I wanted to do. Chrom was going to jump in right after Robin cast her Thoron, but Lucina stole his thunder. Which is a good thing, Grima's Truth would murder the poor guy. Lucina, meanwhile, gave serious thought to just annihilating Validar, which would have been something equivalent to a Divine Smite. Think…small nuclear detonation in a human body.**

 **Next chapter is…. Lucina and Gri. Chapter after that will be Robin. Expect longer chapters going forwards, we have officially hit two separate storylines to move at this point. Also. Fallout! Consequences! War! And… I don't have a punchline for this joke…. Maybe something about horses in castles being stupid? (that's a thing that always bugged me, so had to call attention to it.)**

 **Reviews, question, concerns are all appreciated! Oh, before I forget. If anyone wants an in-depth explanation of how the magic system works, hit me with a PM and I provide the details. My notes document is like an entire chapter long, so I don't want to just drop it into an author's note, these suckers are already pretty freaking long.**


	22. Chapter Twenty: Question and Answer

**Chapter Twenty: Question and Answer**

 **Lady of Naga: Lucina**

We reappeared in a snowy field, Gri's magic sending me flying across the frozen earth in a sprawl of limbs. With a yelp, I lost my grip on Falchion, rolling a few more feet before coming to halt, pain shooting from the no doubt numerous bruises that my teleportation induced tumble had produced. While my experience with that was limited, I was quite certain that the sensation of being caught in a river that was out of control was not a good one when teleporting.

Shaking bits of loose snow from my hair, I sat up, trying to work out what had even happened. Gri had killed Validar, if one could call what happened to the man killing. That spell was unlike anything I had ever seen, and had apparently been incredibly agonizing to experience. After Validar's death, Gri had appeared rather exhausted, staggering away from the bones that were left of the former high Priest, without quite seeming to understand what was happening around her. I had made to catch her before she collapsed, the moment we'd made contact, her spell had triggered, and we were gone. Yet, I wasn't sure she had meant to cast anything else. Given the weather, however, we had gone a considerable distance, possibly all the way into Ferox. Discerning our location could wait however, at least until we found somewhere out of the biting winds. While I could probably survive the cold, hypothermia was one of those lessons learned the hard way, that was not something I desired doing once again. It stood to reason Gri had some method of warding off the cold, which in theory would extend to me as well.

Crawling over to Falchion, I shook my head. During my tumble, I had apparently planted the weapon straight into the dirt, and which explained how it got pulled from my hand. Grasping the blade, I smiled just a bit as its magic flooded my system. At the same time, the metal illuminated, a circle of dull white spreading out around me.

With a hacking cough, Gri stumbled into that circle, before collapsing to her knees. Hacking, she spat out something that appeared to be blood onto the snow, before further slumping onto all fours. "Ow…" Her Falchion was griped in her right hand, metal lacking any degree of shine. She tried to rise, using the blade as a crutch, but her legs refused to take her weight, and sending back to the earth. "That was…. unwise." Each word came halting, with a long pause for her to cough again, this time, mercifully without blood.

"What happened?" I had no problems with leaving the Shepherds, having already stated my intention to leave them, in favor of finding my companions. That said, I did not appreciate that the choice of when to do so had been so rudely ripped from my hands, and the sensation of teleportation, while normally unpleasant, had been even more so this time.

Gri made a second attempt to stand, her legs shaking but, using her weapon as a brace, she managed, albeit hunched over. "To much…magic." I frowned, entirely unsure how to process that statement. Magic had not been part of my education, but I knew that it was possible to magically exhaust oneself, most mages worked very hard to avoid such a thing, because the results were apparently quite painful, and also rather evident, according to Morgan. "Teleported too far. Lost…control." Lost control. I had thought someone losing control of a spell resulted in explosions and loss of limbs. "Stupid." She attempted to smirk, but another pained cough interrupted her, and she spat more blood upon the earth.

"Well, there's no use standing in the cold." Frostbite was highly unpleasant, and Gri would give answers just as well when we were somewhere warm.

Shifting Falchion to my left hand, I moved to Gri's side, placing one of her arms over my shoulders. As soon as I provided some measure of support, she slumped, dropping all of her slight weight on my shoulders, making a half-hearted attempt to lift her Falchion. Giving the weapon a look, I tried not to sigh. "And give me that." I waved my own sword in the direction of hers. Gri fumbled for a moment, before returning her Falchion to its sheath. "Give me the sword Gri." She'd be more of a danger to herself than anyone else in this state. Despite her seeming lack of coordination, she untied the sheath, and slipped it over the right side of my belt.

As I shifted, settling the new weight on my hip, Gri pointed into the distance. "There should… be a village…that way." Gri's cough was so violent it threatened to drop both of us to our knees. She recovered, managing a shaky nod in response to my concerned look.

Snow was beginning to fall, which slowed our already glacial progress. I could only hope we were heading in the vague direction of this village Gri claimed existed. Perhaps relying on the delirious woman for direction was unwise but it was too late to change course now.

Gri's coughing had worsened, and I had to imagine that coughing up blood didn't bode well. "Stupid…" She mumbled. "Just…stupid." Worse, her mental state appeared to be slipping, if the occasional mumbling were any indication. "Shouldn't have…." She shouldn't have what? This was the fourth or fifth time she'd made that declaration, but never actually finished it. Shaking that off, I tried to focus on keeping us moving forwards, secretly praying that it was not much farther to this supposed village. I had long since lost any feeling in my fingers, Falchion's light having dimmed considerably at about the same time. Every step was becoming a considerable effort, and my teeth were chattering.

"Better if…" she trailed off. "…die…" Through the curtain of snow, a cluster of lights slid into focus. "easier…" Gri's mumbling has become slurred, although I could at least understand the gist of this current tangent.

"Ho there!" From the thickening snow, a bobbing light appeared, and a moment later, a man bundled tightly in what had to be multiple layers. "Travelers! Seems you've had a spot of trouble." The man was shorter than I by a few inches, build stocky, broad shoulders covered in a heavy fur of some sort. Possibly bear. Deep voice, welcoming.

"Bandits." The only advantage of the long walk was time to figure out what story I was going to tell, since 'we fought a bunch of Grimeal and teleported halfway across the continent' was unlikely to win any friends. Bandits, however, was a story that fit no matter where we were. None to my surprise, the man winced. "Fought them off but…"

"Aye. They've been gettin' worse…especially since them damn southerners gone an' went to war." Shaking his head, he gave Gri a sharp look, finally catching on to her less than healthy state. "She gonna be alright?"

If only I knew that answer. "I would hope so… she had some kind of magical mishap during the fight." Resettling Gri's weight on my shoulders as best I could, I gave a long sigh. "I've not studied magic to know what might have happened, or what might be the consequences."

Turning a bit, the man waved for me to follow. "You and me both Lady. Hopefully nothin' too bad. Heard that stuff can be nasty." Yes, it could. "Guessing you'll be wanting a room for a while?"

"If there is one spare, yes." Wincing as a new gust of wind pushed back against me, having long since overwhelmed whatever Falchion could do for me in terms of warmth. The man led us into a doorway, the buildings windows flickering with light. Gri groaned, lifting her head a bit.

"Right." A weak laugh. "I was right. That's…good." She managed to get in the door of the room, before collapsing down again, leaving me to support her weight once more.

"Shouldn't be a problem at all." He vanished further into the room, yelling for someone to come help. A moment later, he emerged followed by a younger woman, freckled, brown hair up in a simple bun. "Ellie here will show you upstairs." I made an attempt to smile, but my chattering teeth made that impossible.

"This way." Ellie, who seemed to be at least four inches shorter than me matched my failure of a smile with an actual one of her own, before leading us up a short flight of a stairs to the four rooms that apparently passed for their little random village's inn. Getting Gri up the stairs was difficult, despite her marginal lucidity. For a while, I gave thoughts to just carrying her and being done with it, but just lifting my feet up enough to take the stairs was painful, and I wasn't sure I could balance with the extra weight. Stopping at the doorway of the farthest room, Ellie gave me a worried look. "Is she hurt?"

Letting Gri collapsed onto the bed, I could only shrug. "I don't really know, and even if she was, I doubt she would tell me." Of course, any physical injury she sustained would probably be healed in seconds making the point somewhat moot.

"Oh." The girl managed a small, timid smile. "I hope she gets better."

Looking down at Gri, I could only sigh "I hope so as well." Despite our miserable past, she was the best, and only ally I had, as well as possibly a friend, insofar as my former mortal enemy could be.

Ellie seemed to want to say something else, but settled on a simple curtsey, and leaving the room, the door clicking shut behind her. A deep seated weariness at last catching up, I unbuckled my belt, resting the two Falchions against the room's chair. Letting my cape fall into said chair, I paused for a moment to contemplate what to do about Gri.

She had collapsed onto her side, eyes closed, breath coming in low rasps. Casting my thoughts about, I had to admit that my knowledge of what to do in this situation was lacking. Morgan has always been careful to avoid pushing herself too far, and hadn't been terribly forthcoming as to why. Medicine and magic were two areas that I had shamefully little knowledge of, and it was hardly the time to start learning.

A lack of feeling in my fingers however, I did know what to do about, and was a pressing problem. Deciding to leave Gri to rest, and hope that her admitted healing ability was still working, I slipped out the door, pausing for a second to consider taking at least one Falchion with me. After brief consideration, I decided against doing so. Caution was important, but paranoia was not. And bringing a sword down with me would veer into the territory of paranoid.

"Not going to sleep?" Ellie was sitting at a table staring into the far, and jumped at the sound of my boots on the stairs.

I pointed to the fire. "When I can feel my fingers perhaps." Hunkering down before the flames, I fumbled with my gauntlets and gloves, wincing as pain when shooting down my arms and up my fingers. "At the moment, I feel a bit like an ice sculpture." Finally managing to get one of the straps for my left gauntlet, I bit down a curse. "And apparently have the coordination of one."

"Were you out in the snow long? This is the worst blizzard we've seen in ages!" She was bustling about the room doing something or another, as I continued to work my gauntlets off.

"Since it started falling." I gave my reply around chattering teeth. "I'm quite certain that had we been out much longer, I would simply have fallen over and not gotten up." Falchion's magic or not. With a sharp yank, I pulled my left gauntlet free, the metal clattering against the floorboards. "Or at least, I assume, given that I'm reasonably certain my hair is frozen."

"It doesn't look frozen?" The frown of confusion was audible.

Dropping my right gauntlet, and then my gloves, I sighed. "Well, that's a small mercy at least. Although considering how today has gone, that's not saying terribly much." Ellie didn't have much to say to that, and we lapsed into a comfortable silence. When feeling returned to my limbs, I drifted back to up the stairs, thoughts whirling.

As I entered the room, I took a moment to contemplate Gri. She seemed to have fallen asleep, and turned over onto her back, hair splayed wildly. Her cloak which ordinarily hid her from view, instead covered the bed, and providing a sharp contrast to the pale white sheets, and the grey of its owner's armor

Unconscious, Gri seemed…diminished. Although her facial features were sharp, and angular, they were remarkably less intimidating without her usual stare or the palpable aura of power that Gri projected. Even when Gri allowed some of her control and barriers to drop, such as the evening after our arrival in the castle, she maintained a tangible presence.

 _"Lucina, you're a concept to them. An idea. Most of them don't even realize that you are a person under the layers of stories and deeds. You inspire hope in them, because the very idea of you is beyond their ken; a person who is so powerful they can fight against the God that has been destroying their world…that, to your average farmer or soldier, is ridiculous."_ It was so easy to swap just a few words in Morgan's speech, and describe Gri.

"I just don't know what to do." Moving farther into the room, I rested my arms on the ledge of the window. "You've given me no cause to distrust you, have tolerated everything I've done to you in spite of that..."

" _I don't give a damn if you're a Princess, or whatever. You're a person too, now get back here!"_ That had been early into our war, back when we'd still be young, bright eyed and optimistic. Yet, throughout the war, Severa had maintained that same mindset, although I think that was as much because she didn't want to admit that some us might be better than her.

"Please…." I jumped, snapping about, only to realize that it was Gri. "Stop…they…no…" Nightmares. "Please…not…." What horrors would her dreams retell, I had to wonder. Gri's life contained infinitely more horrors than my own. "Not…her…please…."

Clenching my fist, I considered waking her, before discounting that idea. When woken from my own nightmares, I tended to be violent, and considering what Gri was likely reliving, she would be as well. Couple that with Gri's propensity for violence, and rousing her from her dreams would likely end in my premature death.

"Stop…Me…please…." A strangled cry. "Her…fight….why…"

Staring into the falling snow, I tried not to listen. Gri's demons were her own, and it wasn't my place to step into them.

 _ **-FE:DUL-**_

Snow was still falling when the morning broke, which was only particularly noticeable by the fact that looking out the window became blinding. Sometime during the night, Gri had slipped out of dreams, and fallen silent, allowing me to drift into and out of a resting state. However, the rising sun reflecting off the snow seared my eyes; pain snapped me into full wakefulness.

Fabric rustled as I stretched, various muscles protesting moving.

"Nope. Nope." A long groan. "Long range teleportation is stupid." Several violent coughs, and a disgusted noise. "At least I can take comfort in being stupid in a repeatable manner." More rustling. "and that blood continues to taste unpleasant."

Turning from the window, I arched an eyebrow. "You've done this before?" On one hand, that would not surprise me, on the other, I would have thought she would have learned from the previous mistake.

Gri had propped herself up on one arm, squinting into the light. "Three times. Each time has been progressively worse. Last time I merely passed out for a few hours, and was in an amount of pain comparable to jumping off a cliff. This time, I would not bet on my ability to walk anywhere in the near future. At least not swiftly." She paused to cough again. "and the coughing up blood is new." She quieted, pushing herself into a sitting position, wincing as she did so.

"You can't simply magic the pain away?" Moving to the room's chair, I contemplated the woman's current state. Her skin was chalky white, and eyes lacking in luster, but it was hard to tell if anything else might have been wrong with her.

Her lips pursed. "Yes and no. I could possibly rely upon my…extra magic to blunt the effects of the pain, however that could very well make everything much worse." She gave a light shrug. "Besides, pain is a good reminder of why you shouldn't do something." That did make sense, in a twisted sort of way. "Further, this isn't a physical injury, it is a more specific sort of exhaustion."

"I see." Leaning forwards, I took a moment to consider the best way to proceed with the conversation. "You said you lost control of the spell after we landed out there."

To my surprise, she tried to laugh, and end up coughing once again. "Because I did. Teleportation has a limited range, the farther you go, the more magic you need." That made sense. "Normally, if you try expend more magic than your body has, the spell just fails. Or it kills you. However, I had tapped into an external source of magic, which continued to power the spell. That magic, however, had to go through something, namely me, in order to be focused." Her checks dusted just a bit red. "And I didn't intend to teleport away after that. I…" She trailed off. "It was not an intentional trip, so I didn't have a destination immediately in mind, and thus we appear to have ended up as far as I could possibly throw us away from Ylisse… a distance at least five times farther than a human should be capable of." As she spoke, Gri shrugged her cloak off, letting it pool on the bed, giving me possibly my first honest impression of the woman.

Despite our identical height, and what appearance might suggest, Gri was thinner than I, her cloak, and the pauldrons beneath it, covering up the slight nature of her frame quite well. She started undoing the buckles holding her forearm guards and her own gauntlets in place, grimacing every so often. Despite being even paler than usual, scars stood out against Gri's skin, reminders of something from her past. With a grunt, she let the easily removed pieces of armor fall away. "I don't suppose I can convince you to help me out of the rest of this damn armor?" She tapped her chest and gestured towards her greaves. "Magical exhaustion is not good for flexibility or coordination."

"Where did you ever find someone who could make this for you?" Rising from the chair I shook my head. Gri's armor was exceptionally well made, plate and chain formed seamlessly into the cuirass, a series of clips running down each side holding it in place. I fumbled with the first one, they were far more intricate that my own armor, before figuring the trick out. To be honest, when I had first seen Gri wearing armor it had surprised me a great deal. Grima was not one for armor, preferring to simply regenerate whatever damage I managed to inflict upon him, and often the skilled artisans were killed by the Grimeal. Given that Gri had some of Grima's regenerative powers, it surprised me that she would still rely on armor, as opposed to the psychological weapon of healing any sustained damage on the spot.

With a sigh, Gri rolled her shoulders, wincing as the now loosened armor flexed. "Lots of years, and lots of traveling." Her expression twisted, and I got the feeling there was a bit more to the story than just traveling. Possibly a threat or two. "It took the better part of decade, and wasn't until quite some time after you went back in time, and even then, finding someone who could make what I wanted, and was willing, remained a challenge." She glanced down as I finished undoing the last of the clips. "It's kept me alive on more than one occasion since then, so I consider the investment worthwhile."

Lifting the cuirass over her head, I paused to hold it up to the light, taking in the construction and composition of the piece. "I can't imagine it was easy to make something to work in concert with your fighting style." None to my surprise, Gri shrugged.

"According to the woman who made that, it wasn't hard. Worst part apparently was preventing it from catching on my cloak." She rolled one shoulder. "I wasn't too worried about how complex its construction was, just that it happened." I could understand that feeling all too well. Most of my own armor was made under similar circumstances, or leftovers from before Grima's rise. "Clips for my boots are on the back."

Clips for her boots? "Understandable." Kneeling, I had to stop myself from openly gaping. "Where on earth did you get these?" While I knew Gri wore some kind of armored boot, I hadn't quite realized that instead of simply armored footwear, or acting like the rest of us, and wearing regular boots, she had somehow gotten a fully armored boot to cover regular boots. Heeled boots no less. How in Naga's name did she acquire these, and how did she learned to fight in them?

Chuckling, the woman slumped backwards, radiating undiluted smugness. "I got those during my short tenure as a cult leader… I was complaining about not wanting to wear my boots because I might get stabbed in the foot, and apparently not understand that I'm bad at humor, and was mostly complaining without meaning anything by it, they decided to make those."

"You started a cult. And said cult invented fully flexible and armored combat boots for you to wear, just because you complained about it." I could never let Kjelle find out. Ever.

"I did not start a cult." To my surprise she sounded almost offended. A cult popping up around the Lady of Grima, even if she disavowed Grima, made sense. "I was guilt tripped into a cult…and they were useful. For things beside protecting my favorite boots." From the way she said it, I was reasonably certain they were not, in fact, useful for much besides apparently protecting her favorite boots. Three clips held the primary portion of the greaves in place, and once they were undone, the entire thing unfolded, allowing her to pull her boot out without difficulty. "But mostly protecting my favorite boots."

Returning to the room's only chair, I surveyed her with no small degree of amusement. "I didn't take you for being vain, Gri." To be honest, all of her behavior was not making a lick of sense.

Her smile was somewhat strained. "I am a Princess, in case you've forgotten." True. Validar had taken the Plegian throne. "And I was an unwilling cult leader, so I figured looking the part was useful…and free armor was just icing on the cake." She leaned back, going quiet for some time. "Thank you, Lucina." I had allowed my focus to wander, before those words brought it snapping back. Although I was confused, I stayed silent, unsure what she was talking about. "For not…" Not killing her? Not leaving her in the snow? "For still trusting me."

"Why wouldn't I trust you?" She fought against the Grimeal, and _slaughtered_ Validar, and his minions. While she had called Grima's powers, I could understand her hatred of Validar, and even at the moment when her powers hit their peak, she had not come close to the sheer power of Grima himself.

"Lucina, what do you think happened in the castle?" Subdued was not a tone I was used too from Gri, or most anyone I dealt with on a regular basis.

I frowned, Gri still not meeting my eyes, fists clenching. "You used the power at your disposal." At least, as I understood the situation. Gri could use Grima's magic without being Grima himself, and she certainly had done so, both then, and on occasions before that.

A soft laugh, and she shook her head. "No. Well. Yes, but mostly no." Fist clenching, her cloak bunched. "Any sort of magic bound to a Divinity, be it Fell or Divine in nature requires a connection between the caster, and the God in question. For me, Grima, for you, Naga. I could, if I was feeling quite exceptionally foolish, pray to Naga, and cast Divine magic." Somehow I suspected that would be a less than advisable choice. "I'd probably be scorched off the planet soon afterwards, but none the less, it is theoretically possible. Regardless. Because of this, we can be influenced by those things we draw power from."

"Influenced?" I licked my lips, finding them suddenly very dry. If what she had said in the past was true, that implied Naga was able to influence me, a prospect that left me distinctly uncomfortable. Gri lifted her head, frowning, before understanding flashed about her face.

"Of course." Gaze dropping again, her voice dropped. "You've never truly fought in that state." There was a silence. "I…I need time to explain this. To understand _how_ to explain it." The Mark on the back of her left hand stretched as her fist clenched tight. "Just…I owe you more than you appreciate Lucina."

 _ **-FE:DUL-**_

"How's your friend doing?" Ellie brought me breakfast, bright innocent smile on her face. One I managed to match at least a little better, although my heart wasn't quite in it.

Accepting the food with a nod, sliding a few coins across the table. "She's awake, although still very tired." Pausing to take a few bites, I went on. "In good spirits, for her, as well." Considering she was laughing, very good spirits. Then again, she'd been quite somber when I left, so it wasn't entirely a win.

The girl smiled, dropping into the opposite chair, hands wringing. "That's good. I can't imagine being out in that blizzard was very fun."

I waved a hand, trying not to laugh at the mere idea. A blizzard lacked the ability to kill the Lady of Grima, even in such a weakened state. "She's remarkably resilient, and has various magical tricks to keep her safe."

"That's good." Ellie went quiet, glancing towards the stairs out of the corner of her eye. "I…well…I don't wanna be too nosy, but where are you two from? You, well, you don't exactly look like you're from around here." I took another bite of food, trying to come up with a good answer for that. One that didn't require lying. "You both kinda remind me of stories Dad tells about some Lord he met when he was in the army."

"What do you mean?" Deflecting the question would by me time to minimize the damage of that statement. While it was true that I was technically a Princess, and had been raised as such, and Gri was, or would be, the Plegian Princess, once Validar took the throne, as well as functioning as the closest analog the Grimeal had to a Princess, being outed as such would not do us any favors. I did not desire the idol worship that title might bring amongst the far flung masses, and the Future had taught me that people in such situations tended to flock to nobility, or the impression thereof.

"Well, you're really pretty. And you walk all…fancy!" The girl blushed, although I had no idea what she might have had to be embarrassed about. "And you have this, well," her eyes dropped no longer meeting my own, fingers wringing, "You just sort look _important._ Your cloths are all fancy, and you have swords and well… most people don't see lots of magic and stuff. And you talk about your friend using it as though it's something that happens all the time!" Well, yes. That was entirely accurate. And my 'sister' was a legitimate sorceress.

Chewing for a moment, I gave a slow nod. "That is true. Magic has been a constant part of my life." Often in its capacity for violence, but more than enough for me to be desensitized to it's presence.

"And that!" By this point, I got the feeling the girl wasn't going to stop pointing things out, and it would be better to simply ride things out, as opposed to asking questions, which might just give her more fuel. "You talk all…fancy." That accusation brought me up short. I'd been accused of many things but 'talking fancy' was never one of them.

"What my daughter means, Mi'lady, is that you think before you put your foot down your own gullet." The man who I could only assume owned the Inn cut in smoothly. Ellie all but leapt from the chair, flushing bright, before scurrying out of the room. "Apologize for her. Gets a bit excitable sometimes." The man leaned onto the table, watching her daughter leave.

Waving his concern off, I allowed myself a soft laugh, "I don't mind." He gave me a strange look, eyebrows climbing into his hairline. "If all she's doing is saying I talk a bit strange, that isn't an unfair statement. I'm quite aware my manner of speech is more formal than most." His lips quirked, as though amused at my forthright answer.

"Aye, Mi'lady." As I opened my mouth to speak, he cut me off. "I got eyes. You both are blue-bloods…the alright sort, mind." We were that obvious? "She looks it more than you, but the both of ya."

"I see." That was something to keep in mind going forwards. A random pair of warriors looking for specific rumors would be easily forgotten. A couple noble-women would not be. Giving me a final, searching look, the man made a vague gesture of disinterest.

"None of my business what you're doing out these parts. Least you had sense enough to bring something sharp." Unbidden a quick smile overtook me.

"My father was most insistent I learn to defend myself." Or so Mother had said. My jaw clenched, just for a moment, my earlier amusement souring. Father. Back there, hopefully without any more Grimeal. I had made the choice to leave, but worry for him still clung. "We're no good to anyone with a sword in our guts." That wasn't actually advice from Mother, that was something Morgan had said, but it still applied.

"Smart man." Lips twitching, the owner headed towards a back room. "Naga's Blessing upon you Mi'Lady." Naga's blessing indeed. Some facet of amusement filtered in, as the man paused. "I ah…well, didn't get your names last night, what with snow…"

"Lucina." I paused, about to give Gri's name, before stopping. The Lady of Grima preferred to keep others at arm's length, and during the trudge out to this little village, the realization that Gri was probably not her given name had hit me. She claimed that Robin was the person who would become her, and it was quite possible that Gri's given name was Robin. "I apologize; I must speak to my companion before giving her name. She desires some measure of privacy in her affairs, and we have no discussed how she wished to be known." To my relief the owner laughed.

"Fair enough. Given her looks, makes sense." So rumors of the Grimeal existed even this far from their deserts? Bowing a bit to me, he went on. "Name's Alder, Lady Lucina. It's our pleasure to have you."

I tried to glare in a manner that was 'polite'. "No titles, please. My name is a more than appropriate manner of address." He only laughed, and headed into the back room.

- _ **FE:DUL-**_

Gri was asleep when I returned to the room, mostly to retrieve Falchion. While the blizzard had subsided, if I wanted to step outside, having the swords magic keep me warm was preferable to not. Her armor remained a scattered mess, the woman herself curled into a ball face hidden in a mask of hair.

As I grabbed my blade, I gave the woman just one glance, and came up short. Completed divested of armor, and her usual tunic, I thought for a moment she was fully topless, before realizing that the position she had curled into simply hide the loose fitting under-shirt she was wearing. That, and it accentuated the variety of scars and other leftover wounds on her arms, and a few scars stretching down under the thing fabric of her shirt.

She stirred, and for a moment, I thought she was awake, but as the seconds passed, it seemed she was only shifting with some nuance of sleep.

Taking Falchion, I left the building, heading for the edge of town. With everything that had happened, I needed to clear my head, or at least work through recent events without some kind of direct interference. Falchion pulsing in my palm, warmth a welcoming reprieve from the generalized cold that had settled in my bones since the attack on the castle.

Pulling the Divine sword free, I started moving, letting my body act on memory, following the easy practice routine, while my thoughts ran wild.

Emmeryn was alive. Although the assassination hadn't been in the manner I expected, and the presence of Validar was a major concern, they had none the less been repulsed. Father was now aware of the threat the Grimeal presented, and would hopefully be doing something to counteract it. Or Robin. Even if Gri's misgivings were correct, Robin hadn't fallen to Grima just yet, and her mind was sound, from what I could observe.

Despite that, I couldn't shake the feeling that something was going to happen to the Exalt. Morgan claimed that time was elastic, or something like that, which would cause events to try and play out as they had in our world. Hopefully Father and the Shepherds could prevent whatever else was coming, as I was far beyond able to help them, not that I wanted to stay any longer. I had dallied there to long as it was, and needed to find my comrades, before something happened to one, or maybe even more of them.

Unfortunately, that was easier said than done, especially considering we seemed to have been scattered to the four winds. Without any hint of where to search, I could only wander, and rely on rumors, although I had a few vague ideas about where to start.

Thinking of my companions however, brought up the far more pressing problem. Namely, the Lady of Grima. She was not our enemy, and, even though I'd probably never tell my sister that, Morgan had been right. Unfortunately, most of the other's hadn't been on board with Morgan's idea at all, and thought it was the one time the venerable girl was wrong about anything. So, convincing anyone else might be…difficult. Maybe Severa would agree, she'd seemed oddly sympathetic to Morgan's idea, although I'd never figured out why.

And, of course, the Lady of Grima herself. Something had changed, between her through elimination of Validar, and sunrise. When she'd awoken in the morning, she'd been quieter, almost deferential. That I couldn't understand. What did she think she had to thank me for? Her discussion of magic, and being 'influenced' suggested it had something to do with her initial outburst of Grima's magic, but nothing about what she had done had expressly screamed Grima. Yes, I had yelled at her, and pointed out she was not the Fell Dragon, but that had been as much an instinctive reaction as anything else. Shaking my head, I made a note to ask her about it when I returned.

Shaking my head, I twirled my blade through each hand, letting the easy tricks steady my thoughts. At last snapping my grip back into something more solid, I settled into my traditional stance, and began again.

 _ **-FE:DUL-**_

The rest of the day passed in relative quiet. Gri remained asleep when I returned, muscles aching, and barely able to feel my fingers once again. Finding Gri asleep, I rested Falchion against the side of the chair, and within minutes, had passed out myself, the exertions of the last few hours catching up at last.

I awoke with the sun, my attention focused by the soft creak of the door opening, revealing Gri who looked just about as haggard as the previous day. She'd donned a tunic again, and settled onto the bed, watching me with a degree of intensity that left me wanting to squirm.

"We…it's probably no use putting this conversation off any longer than it has been." There was a great deal more sadness on her face that I might have expected. "What happened. And has happened since."

I had more than a few questions, that was true enough. "With Validar you mean."

Gri nodded, brushing some bits of her hair back behind her ears. "Yes." She paused for a time. "Or more accurately, me, in response to Validar." Her left fist clenched, Grima's mark stretching tightly across the back of it.

"I'm afraid I don't understand, despite what you said yesterday.". Perhaps it was simply a nuance of magic I did not grasp, but the reasoning for Gri's apology continued to escape me.

Her lips twitched a bit. "I lost control Lucina." Her expression twisted into something close to actual hatred, at least, in relation to what I had seen of her. "Of Grima's magic." I blinked, just once. That was the last possible thing I had expected, and had in fact been an actively discounted option. "Don't mistake me, I meant to kill Validar. I merely intend to do it that way. To rip the flesh off his bones, and then continue on to his soul." She sighed. "I let the magic get away from me, and it showed. I….gods. Grima is stronger than I anticipated in this time, and he…he…" She took a deep breath losing some of the quiver in her voice. "He came very close to taking control again. To close." Her fist was clenched tight enough to undoubtedly be painful, even as her lips quirked with amusement. "To…in honesty, Lucina, I owe my freedom to you."

That managed to defy any expectation of this conversation. "You did not exhibit any of the signs of possession by Grima." I challenged, trying to find some hole, some part of her logic that didn't hold up. I didn't want Gri to owe me anything, damnit. Her eyes hadn't shifted, her aura, while undoubtedly powerful and oppressive, had not equaled the titanic pressure on the shoulders that the Fell Dragon could command. I had memorized the signs of Grima's approach, and Gri hadn't exhibited a single one.

"There are more ways to take freedom than possession." Gri flicked her wrist, a motion that might have precluded magic, in a different moment. "Subtle suggestions and influence are just as dangerous as fully possessing me." Gaze dropping, along with her other hand, the woman went on. "I said Grima can influence those with a connection to him. Whispering in our ears, spinning wonderful lies. It's…remarkably seductive, for a being hell-bent on destruction. After all, the most effective way to get people to do something is to convince them it is their own idea…"

That, at the very least, did make sense, although it had some potentially terrifying implications. "I still fail to see how you owe me much of anything." I made a vague gesture. "You've spent your entire life resisting Grima. I doubt there is much I could have done to help you." She claimed to have locked him in her mind, and jumped off a cliff. I highly doubted a few words from her opposite were going to matter.

To me surprise, she started laughing, softly. "Not my entire life Lucina. Only the more recent parts of it." her eyes slid out of focus for a while. "I was raised by the Grimeal. Indoctrinated by them. Even if I hated my Father almost from the moment I laid eyes on the man, never mind that he forced me to kill my own mother, the fact remains that for a considerable portion of my life, Grima was my god, willing or not. Much as Naga was, and is, yours." That made sense. I wasn't always Naga's biggest fan, considering how she treated Morgan, but I was on far more cordial terms with the Divine Dragon than Gri had ever been with Grima. "That leaves me somewhat suggestable if I'm not paying attention to the words in my ear."

"He caught you with your guard down." It was the logical inference to make. "Although I would have thought Falchion would have noticed the influence of Grima…"

Gri's lips twitched, her eyes snapping back to focus. "I am the walking influence of Grima. That Falchion didn't notice is unsurprising. And it isn't that my guard was down Lucina. It's that he _can."_ With a deep breath, the Lady of Grima plowed on. "When you told me I am not Grima… I hadn't noticed his influence, the push against my thoughts. A built in flaw, I suppose, of Grima's vessel. Either way…" Words failed her. "I owe you my freedom." Her head bowed. "Thank you."

Words stumbled as I tried to figure out the best reply, of even reply at all. Gri, for her part seemed content to wait, her unusually somber expression at odds with the balled tension in her shoulders, and the occasional wince of pain, and everything I knew about the woman. "You're…a friend." I settled on at some length. "Someone who understands." And there is something about you I can't quite figure out, but she didn't need to know that part.

That earned me a small chuckle from her. "I can't disagree with that." Lips twisting into a half smile again, she slumped backwards, hitting the mattress with a heavy thump. "Oh, and Lucina?" Deep purple hair obscured the side of her face. "My name is not Gri."

So, that was one question answered at least. "I had begun to wonder." I gave some thought to making a guess at what her name actually was, but that seemed like a recipe for sticking my foot in my mouth, and burning away whatever gratitude I had apparently built up with her over the last two days.

Her entire body shifted, back no fully to me. "Arielle." I almost missed her speak, even with the room entirely silent. "My name is Arielle."

* * *

 **AN:**

 **So. Longass chapter. Very longass. Lots of Lucina. Originally I was going to split the POV, but sticking with Lucina seemed better. So here she is. Attempting to be a halfway normal person, and failing atrociously. And also being clueless about people, and can't take compliments. Otherwise known as, being a child soldier messes you up, edition number one.**

 **Arielle gets her name! This wasn't originally supposed to happen until about halfway into Part 2, but well, she's a jerk and doesn't play fair. Her name will change in the chapter headers appropriately from this point forwards as well. For anyone curious as to why she isn't named Robin, that will be explainsed in time. (the short answer is that it would be confusing as hell, but there is an in story reason too). To be honest, the reveal might have better waited a chapter, but eh. This is a better breakpoint than anywhere else. There's no dramatic point to end on, so to speak at the moment. These two poor sods deserve a little break. I think that covers most of my notes for this chapter, so onwards to the next one! …that's a lie, the next one is going to be painful, because I'm pretty sure it needs to be done entirely from scratch, due to some pacing wackiness (We're getting into territory of me doing some outright weird stuff in the first draft, so undoing it might take some time). So it might be a little while to write, let sit, and then edit as required. Either way, Robin comes next.**

 **Also. It has been determined that the Inn owner guy is Bear Guy.**

 **In related but more important news. I have finally gotten off my ass and done a thing I've been hemming and hawing about for probably half a year, and made a tumblr dedicated to fanfiction (fanart I think is cool (Fire Emblem, Neir, RWBY, whatever else)) and me rambling about writing. It's kinda empty at the moment, but if you want updates on the status of chapters, as they are written, the idea is that said tumblr will provide a path for me to do that. As well as let me tease the various random things coming down the fanfiction (or even original fiction) pipeline. So if you have one of those, following could be useful, or just checking on occasion. Link will be on my profile page, to avoid the FFN chapter eating it.**

 **Questions, comments, concerns, things I've contradicted myself on, something dumb I mispelled? Let me know, I really do appreciate it.**


	23. Chapter Twenty-One: Twilight

**Chapter Twenty-One: Twilight**

 **Tactician of Ylisse: Robin**

Events following Emmeryn's near assassination passed in a blur. I had passed out from my wounds and magical exhaustion, and when I awoke, everything was chaos. Although Gangrel's apparent goal of breaking the will to fight of the Ylissean public had failed, that did little to prevent the chaos that had resulted. In this instance, the chaos was a result of thousands showing up to enlist in the war, the hunt for whoever had tried to sell out the Exalt, and picking up the pieces from the attack. Ylisse had rallied behind its leader, even Emmeryn's pacifism having been strained to the limits.

Despite my exhausted state I had been roped into those proceedings, having been foisted with no small responsibility of concocting a plan to defend Ylisse from an invasion spearheaded by a madman. Such a task suited my physical state well; my right arm was in a sling, apparently the spell left some kind of residue that rendered the wound impervious to healing magic's. Ordinarily, having to simply sit and stare at tactical manuals and maps all day would be quite pleasing. However, after several days of doing so, I was found myself slowly losing what was left of my sanity. I hadn't realized how accustomed I was to being up and walking and fighting day in and day out. Without the exertion, I found myself with pent up energy. While I could occasionally burn off the energy by practicing with magic, driving my skills with Thoron forwards as best I could, today, I had been unable to get away, and I could feel myself becoming restless, and my workload was not letting up.

"Lady Robin." Emmeryn interrupted my thoughts, sticking her head into the room that had been dubbed my 'office', since the attack. In practice, it was more of a point where I could pile papers and other things of importance to attempting to defense of the city. "A moment of your time?" I gestured to the only other chair in the room, I had nothing but time at the moment, after all. "How is your shoulder fairing?"

She always started with that. "It's better. Still won't win me any swordfights, but I can move the arm without feeling like it's being ripped from the socket." Emmeryn winced appreciatively. "Lissa thinks it will be a week at least before I don't need a sling." I hoped it would be sooner, before I lost my mind. "What can I do for you, Lady Emmeryn?" I wasn't the best at picking up unspoken cues, but something in the set of her face, and the sag of her eyes suggested this was not just a social visit.

"We have received reports that a considerable force of Plegian soldiers are advancing upon the capitol." Her hands folded in her lap, a gesture that I had discovered suggested a certain nervousness. As the sort of leader who felt the pain of her people, so to speak, Emmeryn would find a direct invasion of this sort nigh physical painful. "A force considerably larger than anything we had expected." I had been pretty generous with my estimates, and they were still too small? "Those scouts that have returned have described the destruction of the countryside, and many other crimes." Those scouts that have returned, meaning that plenty had not.

Grima damn them. "I see." We were in no shape to repulse an invasion force, despite the sudden influx of soldiers and help. Not one of that size, at the very least. I could probably rustle up a method of swatting back a comparable army to what Ylisse might muster, but to engage a force several times our size would be suicide. Pushing myself upright, I grimaced, letting various plans dance about my head. "This is going to get very messy, very quickly, Lady Emmeryn." There was no point in sugar coating the situation. Gangrel would be coming for the capitol. Sieges never went well for the attacker, but in our case, as defenders, it would be a long bloody conflict.

"I know." She paused. "I..." Her eyes dropped, fingers twitching once again.

"Gangrel cannot keep this war up forever." I rose from my seat, suppressing grimaces at the twinges of pain. "The longer this goes on, the more his people's will to fight will flag." At least compared to us, up to a point. Her shaky no suggested that the Exalt knew that as well. "We know they are coming, and we can be ready for them." That, prompted a more confident nod, and a grateful smile.

 ** _-FE:DUL-_**

This was…out of control. This entire situation had spiraled irrevocably out of my control, as though it had been in my control to begin with. Cold stone was rough against my back, as I let myself slump into the parapet. My shoulder throbbed, a dull ache that had become a facet of every waking moment since the near assassination. Closing my eyes, I let my head loll back, cold stone pressing into my scalp. Since learning of the Plegian invasion, I hadn't been able to shake an overwhelming sense of hopelessness.

 _You have witnessed the power of one of my Chosen. Give yourself to me, child, and I can make you far greater than she._ And, to make matters worse, the voice in my head was back. _You would have the power to protect your friends, your pitiful little city._ My suspicion about the nature of that voice had been confirmed however, watching Gri destroy Validar, and listening to the wordless cackles of joy as a Fell mage utilized their fullest power to kill. _You know my power, what I can give you._ That is to say, I had the displeasure of hosting the Fell dragon himself in my head.

"No thanks." Speaking aloud might have made me seem insane, had enough been around to listen. However, everyone else seemed to be stockpiling sleep, no doubt in preparation for the battle ahead, leaving me to ponder on other, less pleasant things in silence. "As I told your Priest, I am not a fan of bending my knee to madmen."

 _I can make you a god! Fulfill your every desire. You would be greater than any of my Chosen, greater than any mortal who ever lived!_ I had tried ignoring him in the past, with about the same results as I got this time. _You will succumb mortal… they all succumb to me._

I licked my lips. Most of the time I simply refused to acknowledge Grima's whisperings in my ear. However, I saw a chance to needle the god, petty as it might have been. And, in a roundabout way, it might provide me with information I didn't already have. "I can think of at least two people who haven't, or wouldn't succumb to you."

For a few seconds, there was silence, followed by mocking laughter. _Fool. You believe she did not succumb? You felt her power…her magic…it almost broke you, mortal. I offer you a power greater still…something beyond what your pitiable brain can comprehend._

For a while it was my turn to be silent. "You don't have the power to subdue her." Or so Gri had claimed. According to her, the spirit of Grima was weak, sealed away, and only able to taunt and whisper in our ears, without exerting any level of influence on the outside world, beyond in those who listened. "She left your deranged religion behind. She uses your magic of her own will, without being beholden to a monster."

Draconic laugher rang behind my ears, Grima, far more unsettling than I was willing to admit. For Grima to brush off my taunts so casually was not what I had expected. _The one you call Gri, mortal?_ Continued laughter rang about my head, a sense of triumphant pleasure following behind it. _One of my chosen? When the time comes, she will play her part…_ I got a few seconds of quiet, as a blast of cold wind raced over the parapets. _And you will have a choice mortal…stand beside her, rule over these people as their god, or be crushed beneath her might._ Something roared and just for a moment, my insides twisted, sheer terror causing adrenaline to pour into my battered limbs. Gri herself, resplendent in the aura of magic hadn't inspired this much fear. My heart skipped every second or third beat. _Even her pitiful attack dog will not protect you!_

Pitiful attack dog? I could only assume that meant Marth, although I didn't see Marth as Gri's "attack dog". If anything they had been somewhat uneasy allies. Of course, it was not as if I could ask them.

Although I didn't quite remember it clearly, Marth and Gri had disappeared moments after Validar's…death. Although the other Shepherds corroborated my memories, none of us could find a reason why they would disappear, or where they might have gone. Gri had always insisted teleportation was limited range, and even Gri and Marth could not outrun pegasi. However, all efforts to find the women came up empty, and were redirected to other, more important matters in short order.

"What are you doing here, man-spawn?" And, to complete the mess resulting from that 'battle', we had two new additions to the Shepherds. Gaius, who apparently had been recruited via candy, and Panne, who Marth had told us of. It was the latter who had found me. Although I would never articulate the feeling, I was impressed she had.

"Thinking." She was somewhere to my left, but I couldn't be bothered to open my eyes and look. Grima's laughter faded away, the dragon apparently content to let me have this conversation. The top of the wall was a fairly confined space, meaning she could only be in a short list of places, and her exact location did not matter.

Footsteps. "So you come to freeze while you think?" Hostility lingered behind her words, not quite controlled. A brief searching of my memories confirmed I had never met this woman, at least, not since I awoke in that field.

Tamping down on a snort of amusement, I replied in an even a manner as I could. "No. I wanted quiet."

Shuffling. She was close enough to touch, in all probability. "So, you hide from your responsibilities?" There was no small degree of scorn to those words, and I fought to keep my hands open, as opposed to balling fists.

"No." I knew I needed to get to know the woman at some point, to help integrate her into the battle-plan. However, that had been on the list of things to do in the morning, instead of in the middle of the night, while I was brooding. "If I do nothing but stare at maps, and plan all day, I'm assured to go mad." If I haven't already. "Sometimes, the best thing I can do is stop, and just…be nobody for a while." Get away from being called Lady Robin. From responsibility, and impending doom. And the specter of what Gri's terrible display might mean for me, although Grima's whisperings in my ear brought that back into focus.

"And how does that work for you, man-spawn?" Panne's clothing rasped as she moved. Her footsteps were very near silent; I could only pick up one in perhaps four. I suspected that her calling me man-spawn was meant to be insulting, either to me, or my Father. However, not knowing the man, I could safely say that I could let the words roll of easily enough.

"Ask me tomorrow, and we'll see. Right now, the wolves circle a bit too close." And they were many and ravenous. Or would that be the dragon was to close? Growling laugher echoed in my ears, and I shuddered again, this time from anything but the cold. Trust the Fell Dragon to find that thought amusing.

Panne was silent for some time. "You are not what I expected." Was I ever? "Your Exalt speaks of you well, as does your leader, Chrom." Although some of her hostility was gone, I didn't think she agreed with that assessment at the moment.

"You were expecting someone calm, composed, unflappable, watching the city, laying out the plans to defend it, and instead you got a woman slumped against a wall, with a bloody shoulder, who seems caught between hysterical laughter and crying?" Shuffling. I let my head fall to the side. "It's been a bit of a rough few days. I'm sure I'll live up to expectations better in the coming days." Or we'd all be dead and it wouldn't matter. One of the two.

Panne made a noise caught been dismissive and interested. "And how might that be?" Because I wouldn't be in the middle of a mental breakdown? "What might change between now and then, man-spawn?"

"Depends on your perspective." Opening my eyes at last, I considered the woman. She was wild, untamed by the world, or at least, she'd spent a lot of years in the wilderness. "The past three days have been…overwhelming. I've gone from leading a small specialized group of soldiers to being the de facto commander of an entire nation in a war they are destined to lose. I've gotten a firsthand glimpse of just what sort of power I might have at my fingertips, power that scares the Grima damned life out of me. And now, Gangrel invades, and I'm supposed to figure out how to defend a city from a siege?" Pain lanced up my arm as I made a vague gesture towards the castle. "I barely defended a castle from a few dozen soldiers, and that was when I had a couple people who might as well be physical gods on our side. Now, they're gone, off into the mist, and I've got a crippled shoulder, no clue what I'm fighting, no clue what I'm doing…none of it." Pausing for a self-deprecating chuckle, I went on. "A few days won't change any of those things." Well, Marth and Gri _might_ reappear, but I doubted it, and couldn't count on that.

"Then what might change, Man-spawn?" Panne arched an eyebrow. That, at least, had taken the wild woman off-guard. From what Chrom had said, Panne wasn't present in the courtyard to witness either my duel with Validar, or Gri's execution of the man.

"Perspective." Wry smiles were all I had, at this juncture. "Maybe I'll have some grand revelation. Maybe there will be new information. Maybe the Plegian army will implode on its own. Maybe some divine insight will strike someone? Maybe none of those things will be true. Maybe all that will happen is that I'll have pushed all of this down, and I'll be back to what everyone expects out of me. Calm, controlled, and I'll pull a solution out of my ass." Doubtful, but I had to try. "Beautiful and awful truth about humans. We're damn good at believing a lie if we don't like the truth."

That got a look I couldn't decipher from the woman. "I see." Entirely measured, but the two words were entirely neutral for the first time all evening. I considered it a win.

"I can't control the world Panne. Only how I react to it. And as far as the Shepherds are concerned, I'm always in control of how I react to the world. In control of the world as it reacts to me." A fat lie that was. "I allow them that belief, because it's comfortable. Easy. I am not allowed to be weak. War and death are coming…" I wasn't entirely sure why I was telling her these things. To some degree at the moment, I just wanted to talk, and recent events had worn my usual filter down.

"You are unusual." Panne looked away, her gaze falling out to the city. "They owe you nothing, yet you would lay down your own blood in their defense."

With a grunt, I stood, letting the wind wash over me, catching on my cloak, slapping my shins with the garment. "I have no memory of who, or what, I am. I can only be defined by my actions. So yes." Elbows resting on the parapets, I focusing on appraising the city, and its defenses. Ostensibly what I had come out her to do in the first place, until Grima started talking.

"Even when most of them would not do the same for you." She had to be going somewhere with this, even if I wasn't sure where. "You are indeed an unusual human."

"Mhm." Giving my answer some considering, I idly pondered why she mentioned my humanity. "My circumstance is unusual, so I suppose it makes some sense that I am a bit odd, although I'm not sure was that special."

 _You are weak, mortal. Divest yourself of these attachments…accept your birthright…become as you are meant to be._

"I see." Panne stared out over the city. "My people were destroyed by yours, Tactician. Burned and killed in our warrens. I am the last of us." That could only end with something I wasn't going to enjoy. I was almost certain of it. Compounded by the fact that I was not aware she wasn't, well, human? "I will trust you for now, Tactician." And, before I could really figure out what the hell any of that meant, she was gone, leaving me watching over the city, letting the wind throw my hair over my face, obscuring that view.

 **Light in Shadow: Arielle**

My actual name, the one given to me by my Mother as she bled out, my sword buried in her guts, fell off my tongue with a degree of weightiness that I hadn't expected. It was a secret I had kept; sometimes, the only thing that kept me sane, as I watched Grima use my body for acts far more heinous than anything I had conceived or witnessed. When fleeing the Grimeal, I had sworn that I would never tell anyone who I was, until they earned that right. Keeping me from inadvertently handing myself to Grima counted as earning that right.

My pseudonym, Gri, was chosen from haste, more than anything else, and derived by inelegantly shortening Grima into something that passed for a name. That, and I wasn't quite ready to dissociate myself from Grima…as much as I wanted to destroy him, I still defined myself by him. Or lack of him. That was something that I knew had to end, if I was going to be traveling with Lucina. My Grimeal cloak was recognizable enough, without having to add a name that was just a step removed from their dark god. At this point, my actual name was as good a name as any other. Besides that, there were people I would meet who I was going to tell the truth about my name, and it seemed appropriate to get used to being addressed by it now. And there was one person who already knew, even if they probably hadn't put the pieces together yet.

"Lady Arielle?" It was still odd, being addressed as anything other than Gri, the Lady of Grima. Flicking a glance towards the speaker, I tried not to sigh. Although both Lucina and I had attempted to convince the town we weren't, they had settled on the idea we were noblewomen, and had stubbornly refused to not address us as such.

"Yes?" Pulling my focus away from pointless musing, I gave the inn owners daughter a nod. I had yet to quite figure out what her impress of the two of us was, but she seemed quite intent on being helpful and just vaguely present.

"Are you alright?" She moved into my field of vision, thin frame wrapped in several layers of clothing. "That cloak can't be very warm?" Ellie could manage to at least question us, which was substantially more than anyone else here had pulled off. Although she still squirmed under my scrutiny, but at this juncture I was willing to take anything I could get.

"It's warm enough." Today was warmer than the previous few, and wasn't snowing. To be honest, I found the cold somewhat refreshing, especially when compared to the deserts where I had grown up, and spent many years even after Lucina's return to the past. "And magic is capable of dealing with the difference." Mentioning magic appeared to be tempting fate, as a fresh wave of coughing shook my frame, leaving the heavy taste of copper on my tongue as it passed.

The girl frowned. "Are you sure?" Taking a small pause to collect herself, the girl went on, gaining confidence with every word. "My Lady, it's freezing outside. Surely, even your magic can't…" her head of steam fell off, and the sentence petered out.

I managed a neutral expression, rolling my shoulders into a vague shrug. "Magic can do many wonderful things." And horrible things, for that matter, although that was something probably best kept to myself. "Lucina is wondering what I'm doing, isn't she?" I wasn't sure what defined out relationship. Until recently, I would have defined us as uneasy allies, at best. However, she had seemed to express a greater interest in my wellbeing since I killed Validar, albeit in a somewhat backhanded manner, via the girl in front of me, or sentences and actions that were just outright confusing.

Ellie flushed, and glanced away, and confirming my suspicions. "She might have…um…mentioned that she was worried about you." Snow puffed up as the girl shuffled her feet. "And she mumbled something about your being stupid?"

I pulled my cloak tight, watching a few clouds drifting overhead. Things like that. It just didn't make sense. To some extent, I could see why Lucina might care that I wasn't overly damaged. As things stood, I was her greatest ally against Grima, and at the very least, I could say without the faintest trace of arrogance I was the strongest living mage. Morgan might come close, but hundreds of years of experience would allow me to win that battle. However, Lucina's interest seemed to extend beyond just a cursory one, and left me more confused than I had started.

"Why you enjoy freezing, I will never know." And true to form, the subject of my confusion appeared. Lucina herself didn't look any different than normal, aside from having let her hair down, leaving it to fall freely, both over her shoulders, and down her back. I had to admit the look suited her far more than the overly serious 'Marth' did. The Lady of Naga carried herself with an elegance than 'Marth' had lacked, albeit a subtle one. Even if I felt Chrom was a dunce for not realizing 'Marth' was female, I would admit that Lucina, or more likely, someone else, had done a very good job of crafting her disguise, and Lucina did a fair job of selling it. However, having seen Lucina, and 'Marth', I could say that her own skin was infinitely more comfortable for the Princess of Ylisse, than the hero king's.

"We have different standards for freezing, I think." Freezing would imply I was in pain from the cold, and the only pain I felt was leftovers from ill-considered magic. "The cold is unlikely to kill me, regardless." Or at least, I didn't think it would. Battered, bruised, and magically defunct I might have been, but what little magic I possessed was not about to let me die. Nor would my Falchion. Divine sword was stupid about that.

"Perhaps." Brilliant. She wasn't convinced. I hadn't held onto much hope she'd believe me, even if I pulled the 'I'm magic, so I'm awesome' bit. With Lucina's arrival, Ellie had scampered off. "It isn't like you to disappear just to think."

"Mhm." I turned my attention to the clouds once more, folding my cloak tighter as the wind picked up. "The situation is more precarious than I had ever imagined." Nearly five minutes later, I spoke, weight settling onto my shoulders with every word. "Grima is moving faster than he did in our time. Validar's direct involvement with the assassination of Emmeryn suggests the Grimeal's position is strong within Plegia." Lucina didn't reply. "Grima himself is far more active." I doubted he would whisper in Robin's mind, despite her power. She didn't present nearly tempting enough of a target, by comparison to me, and he had not yet tried to speak in mine. No doubt, the Fell Dragon was focusing his efforts on the Grimeal, orchestrating the war.

"You have mentioned that." Another thing Lucina was better at, keeping her voice from betraying feelings. Marth was more emotional, perhaps as a result of her having to focus on other things to sell the disguise. At that moment, I found that trait surprisingly frustrating, as it left me with no way to interpret what Lucina's feelings about my declaration where were. What her feelings about me, in relation to that, and my admissions about nearly losing control where.

"Validar's death won't slow them down. Aversa will rally them to Gangrel. Turn them loose against Ylisse." My eyes closed, and I took a moment to soak in the memory of black fire ravaging the countryside, the screams of civilians as their city fell, and the palpable terror. "I fear I may have served Grima his golden chance at resurrection. Thousands and thousands will die, Robin and Cordelia perhaps even utilizing Fell magic during the battles." I doubted Ylisse would fall, but that possibility remained. "It won't be enough to bring him back, even in ideal circumstances that requires the sacrifice of hundreds of thousands of lives, but it will make the task substantially easier for the Grimeal going forwards."

"And would not the war have achieved the same thing before?" For someone without knowledge of magic, she knew the right questions. "If not on a far greater scale, as the previous war was driven by Emmeryn's death?"

"Yes, and no." There was nothing to do but sigh, and try not to cough up my blood. "I was doing all I could to suppress any magic I had when the Mad King's War began in our time, so I cannot say for certain how it might have affected Grima's revival. However, given that he was weaker at the end of that war than he is at this very moment, I suspect other events, beyond our understanding have influenced things."

"I see." And we were quiet again. That at least, didn't change.

Another wave of coughs shook my torso, although mercifully without the copper tang this time. "If I was in a better state, I'd suggest we travel to the Dragon's Table, and send him to hell where he belongs. As it is, that option is rather unavailable to us, unless you feel confident in your ability to defeat a God in single combat."

Her gaze was appraising, sizing up the validity of my statement. "Perhaps." Her gaze dropped. "I fear that my blade will be quite insufficient to strike Grima down however." I turned my attention to the woman herself, frowning. Falchion was the weapon that had struck down Grima, Duma, and Medeus. To my knowledge, nothing was required besides the blade, and being able to, well, defeat such a foe.

"I am afraid you find me at a loss." I tapped my own weapon. "I was not aware anything separated one Falchion from another." Was a Divine Sword not just a Divine Sword? Given that mine proverbially wasn't talking to me, I couldn't inquire of the weapon itself.

Although I had no doubt she enjoyed being able to pull one over me, none of that showed on Lucina's face. "It is not that my Falchion is different from yours or Father's." Her eyes drifted out of focus, words coming more slowly. "Most of the inherent magic in Falchion is sealed away. One must undergo a ritual to 'awaken' that magic, and gain access."

"And it is only with the aid of that extra magic than a Falchion can slay a God." That made good sense, when I thought about it. "To destroy a magical entity you need a weapon with at least a passable level of magic." If you traced the deaths of assorted 'gods' back in time, they were often slain with the aid of magical beings, or even other gods. Telliusean legend suggested their goddess had been put down by another goddess, by means of others, as a good example of the principle at work.

That elicited only a shrug. "I would assume so."

"And you do not wield an 'awakened' blade." That would be a surprise, that Naga's chosen warrior would not be gifted with the weapon capable of killing her foe.

Lucina shook her head, dislodging her hair, and thus hiding her face. "No. There is no 'awakened' Falchion in the world at the moment." Oh. "Naga was weakened by the time I took up the blade, and thus unable to fully grant me it's power. I can use more than Father, but I doubt I would be able to strike down Grima." Considering her success in dueling Grima in the future, that was rather frightening to contemplate.

"Hrm." Fingers wrapping about my own blade, I tried to sort that new information out. "I would gather Naga is the only one capable of this ritual." A nod. "Wonderful." Finding Naga meant Mount Prism. It also meant having an uncomfortable conversation about murdering members of her clergy, in something akin to a fit of trauma induced pique. I stood by my actions, and would do the same once again, not that such an argument would sit well with Naga. "We're going to have to find horses. I absolutely refuse to walk all the damn way to Mount Prism." I had done that once before, and it was a thoroughly miserable experience. Besides. Riding meant less time for Lucina to find a reason to kill me.

Lucina arched an eyebrow, but didn't question my assertion. "You're a Princess, so you can pay for them then."

"I seem to recall a certain Ylissean Princess being the one who has the problem, and it seems to me that if she is going to be the one causing the inconvenience, then she should be the one to alleviate it."

Blue eyes rolled. "It seems to me that a certain Plegian Princess is the one who is causing the problem, so I fail to see why the Ylissean Princess should be inconvenienced by her refusal to perform such common activities as walking." In Grima's name, she was enjoying this, if that half smile was anything to go by.

"But the Plegian Princess would have no need to inconvenience the Ylissean Princess if said Princess had taken care of this problem already." Pausing to adjust my cloak, I went on. "Besides, the Ylissean Princess would not sully the honor of House Ylisse by taking advantage of another while they are injured would she?"

Baleful glare, and an amused smirk. "Ah, but the Plegian Princess forgets, she is hardly injured, merely weakened, and by her own fault. Thus, House Ylisse retains its honor, and the Plegian Princess would sully her own honor to take advantage of House Ylisse, would she not?" I matched the glare easily enough. "Thus, I think the Plegian Princess will find horses if she wants to have them." And, before I could manage a retort, Lucina was gone, gliding over the snow.

 **Tactician of Ylisse: Robin**

Energy crackled, spiraling out into a complex sequence of runes and arcane symbols. Bits of lightning snapped and spat as I struggled to maintain the energy of the spell. With a snarl, I pulled the energy in, runes collapsing about my arm, and a bolt of energy snapped out from the palm of my left hand, throwing almost blinding light across the courtyard. And then fizzled out a dozen feet away.

"Still going at that?" I jumped, whipping about spell already on my lips. Chrom smirked, arching an eyebrow when my hand dropped back to my side. "Why are you so insistent that you master that one spell? You seem to be quite capable of fighting with the magic you already know?"

"Chrom." Letting my glare fall away, I turned back to the empty space, and called for magic again. " _Thoron."_ This time, I had even less success, the spell fizzling out mere inches past my palm, runes having come within a hairs breath of failing to stabilize. "This war is going to be something entirely different than the battles we've fought to this point…and we don't have Gri and Marth on our side this time." My arm came up, building the spell more slowly, working through the mental incantation slower. "I have to be stronger Chrom, if we're going to be fighting people on the same level as Validar was." Runes spun on from my wrist, the full magical framework for Thoron building. No sooner had all the runes stabilized however, did the spell simply collapse back in on itself. Before I could attempt again, Chrom grabbed my wrist.

"And you won't." Blue eyes bored into mine, serious expression out of place on his normally laid back face. "But you're not going to do anyone any good when you're so tired you can't walk Robin." Offering a quick gesture to the courtyard that I had covered in blast marks and the blue haired man conjured up a wan smile and a chuckle. "You've been at this for hours, and haven't make much progress besides destroying a courtyard."

Dropping my arm, I spun away, stalking across the scorched area. "And what good does going insane achieve?" Throwing a wave towards my shoulder I plowed onwards. "Being stuck inside staring at plans, ideas, maps. I've seen the reports from the scouts, at least the ones that come back. Plegia can't be ignorant of our military situation, and their General is no fool. Ylisse might be united behind defending against this new invasion, but we're outnumbered, and in most cases, out classed in terms of skill." Chrom grimaced as I finished the blunt summation. "In most cases, our best chance at victory in battle, magic, is more the purview of Plegia, and their Grimeal allies than Ylisse." Ylissean Pegasi granted plenty of their own advantages in battle, but they were best suited to open field battles and hit and run tactics, as opposed to sieges. "Magic is an equalizer in battle Chrom. Not the sort of magic you've seen Miriel, Ricken, or myself do. Something closer to what Gri used." Battle magic. The sort of spells that could cripple an army that didn't have mages of its own to defend itself. "I wouldn't know where to find a Mjolnir tome, and I'm not arrogant enough to believe I could cast that. Thoron makes an acceptable substitute, and I _have_ to get this spell right. I'm not going to be useless damnit!"

Chrom snorted. "Robin, you'll never be useless. The only time Gangrel had pulled one over you was just now, and you, Gri, and _everyone_ else said was blindingly insane." I couldn't help but feel Chrom's faith in me was entirely misplaced, and my own words to Panne danced between my ears.

"We almost didn't." I cut him off. "I lost my fight against Validar Chrom. He could have killed me, would have killed me, if Marth hadn't intervened. I have no doubt Marth could kill Validar with the same ease Gri did, but that doesn't change the face that Marth, and my…duplicate, are gone." Stumbling over my words for a moment, I took a deep breath. "I'm the only person here who can do this Chrom."

"Lord Chrom! Lady Robin! There's a group of people here to speak with you!" Whatever Chrom might have had to say, it was cut off as a Pegasus rider came sprinting up, grasping at breaths. "Sir Frederick…wants…to, ah, see you."

"A group here to speak to us?" Chrom's scowl was slight. New groups of people wanting to speak to Chrom, myself, or Emmeryn were not uncommon, as nobles trickled in to help defend the kingdom from invasion. However, Frederick wanting to speak to us beforehand was odd. "Did Frederick tell you anything else about them?"

Having recovered her breath, the woman saluted in lieu of a nod. "Yes sir. I met them outside the city. Two men, and three women, one of whom has a cloak similar to Lady Robin's." That was new, and rather concerning. Chrom seemed to share my thoughts, his expression hardening in time with his hand drifting to Falchion. "Sir Frederick asked I bring you to him at once Mi'lord."

"Lead on then." The woman led us on a winding path towards the west wing of the castle, which I couldn't help but notice was crawling with soldiers. Lon'qu, Vaike, Stahl, Ricken, and Donnel were also present. Cordelia was standing at the end of the hall where we were stopped by Frederick, and I had counted no less than fifty soldiers in the area.

"My Lord." Frederick's enteral scowl abated somewhat as we approached. "Our latest visitors are in there." He motioned towards a door a bit farther down. "There is something unnerving about them. Especially the young women with a cloak." That wasn't quite a surprise, from a man who didn't trust anyone, but with the detail that her cloak resembled my own, it took on a new weight.

I tuned out Chrom's reply to Frederick, focusing the small amount of energy required to bring Mage Sight towards the room. Even muted by the walls, I could pick out three substantial auras, and two smaller, but no less impressive ones. At least two people there where highly versed in magic, and more concerning still, one of them was entwined with the streaks of black and grey that riddled my own aura, and Gri's. The other mage, aside from having a fair amount of power, wasn't anything of note. Of the three substantial auras, the final one wasn't as strong, but stuck out, a deep purple entwined with black threads.

"Robin?" Shaking any consideration of what those colors meant off, I blinked once, letting my vision fade to normal. "Ready?"

"As I'll ever be." I flexed my right hand, grimacing as the muscles shifted. Adding dodging projectiles to my ever growing to-do list, I followed Chrom into the room.

All five seemed quite relaxed, sitting around the room in various states of disinterest. Two young men, one wearing the same style of ridiculous stereotypical pointed wizard hat as Miriel, with the robes to match. Making matters worse, he had a pair of oblong glasses and one top of that, he had an impractical flared collar, although I could concede he was decently magically powerful. The other had a wild and unkempt look that reminded me distinctly of Panne. Both wore limited armor, with patches of fur along the edges of what pieces they did have, including weird fluted leggings and left the foot bare.

"Hiya!" A blue haired woman waved, friendly smile in place as we stepped in. Pegasus knight from her armor, a chest plate, cauldrons, armbraces and metal backed gloves. I suspected her boots were at least somewhat reinforced, but no greaves. She was leaning on the shoulder of a woman who I made a note to watch. Brown hair, falling down over her shoulders in twin pigtails, framing a stony glare. A sword rested across her lower back, suggesting left handed swordsmanship.

"Lord Chrom. Lady Robin." Before I could complete my assessment, the final visitor spoke, snapping my attention to her. Without a doubt, she was the one Frederick mentioned, if the cloak was anything to go by. Although weathered, the symbols stitched into the fabric were easy to distinguish, and I could feel my heartrate spike in response. There was no doubt the woman commanded attention; grey-green eyes all but glowed from within. Deep purple fell on either side of her face, and then vanishing into the color of her cloak. The back of her hair was held up in a high ponytail, thick green ribbon securing it in place, which allowed her most striking feature to be visible, subtlety pointed ears. Most of her body was obscured by that damnable cloak, and the rest was hard to discern as a result of her armor being a dull unadorned grey. What did stick out, however, was a starburst necklace resting on her collarbone. Bright white, and outlined in a black metal, the gem seemed to gleam from within. Bulges along her waist suggested multiple tomes, and possibly a blade, meaning this young woman was quite the warrior. Power all but dripping from her, every movement was regal, commanding authority in a way not dissimilar with Marth or Gri. "Apologies for the…circumstances of this meeting." Her magic permeated the words, although she hardly needed it, considering the commanding presence.

"What do you mean?" I couldn't help but notice Chrom had taken position in front of me, blocking my right shoulder. His hand was hovering near Falchion as well. Given the amount of power this girl had, I couldn't prepare for a fight without alerting her, and worse, if we ended up fighting, she probably could kill us both before I could come up with a defense.

Her lips quirked for a brief moment, before her expression settled on something more neutral. "There is an army at your doorstep, or near enough to it." For a moment, the very air seemed to swirl about, then things went still, almost eerily so. "Nearly seventy-thousand Plegains will be on your gates within two days."

Seventy-thousand? Where had Gangrel managed that large a force? "How…. Where…" Chrom tried to speak, and failed. I licked my lips, trying to guess how that would have even been possible. I couldn't find a way Gangrel would have acquired that many soldiers. Yet this girl had delivered the proclamation with certainty, and even if she was Grimeal, there was nothing to be gained from telling us these things, and this was far too civil for an attempted assassination.

"What makes you so convinced of that?" Our eyes locked, and I caught the faintest hint of a smile in hers, as I pressed on. "Seventy thousand soldiers seem well outside Gangrel's means, and well beyond our own estimates of his forces."

"Cynthia is quite confident in her estimates, and I trust her judgement." From the side, the blue haired girl flashed up a thumbs up and a grin, but otherwise didn't seem to fussed. "Besides that, their numbers stretch a considerable way, even when viewed from great distance, and height." Pausing, the girl weighed the next words. "To be entirely honest, they might be more numerous than my estimate, but at the very least it's that many."

"Forgive me, but why should we trust you?" Even as I spoke, I could see various members of the group tensing as if for a fight. Hands crept to weapons, stances shifted. "Nobles showing up with armies I can understand, but the five of you seem like random travelers, simply walking in, and expecting us to believe a word you say?" Four people were now quite prepared for a fight, although it was subtle. "Hypocritical as it might be, I find it hard to trust a stranger wearing one of these," I flicked my own cloak for demonstration, "without just cause." At those words, the two young men tensed, one going for weapons, the other falling into a combat stance. The brown haired woman shifted her left hand to her sword, as Cynthia tensed alongside.

"All of you relax." The woman I had been speaking too seemed to catch the movement as well, tone going from soft and commanding to sharp and absolutely authoritative. "It is a valid question, and I would ask it in their position." All four others relaxed, although not so much that they couldn't lash out if required. "Until quite recently we served a minor Valmese Noblewoman in the same capacity the Shepherds serve the crown of Ylisse." Meaning they were glorified mercenaries. "When Walhart the Conquer began his expansion, our employer resisted, and was killed. We fled south, and then across the ocean to avoid the conflict." Although I hadn't heard about a Walhart the Conqueror, I couldn't see any glaring holes in her story.

"And the cloak?" She did seem to want to avoid that topic, considering the long winded answer. Chrom did seem to pick that up however, and asked the obvious question.

"My Mother left it for me, before she disappeared." Her Mother? "She's been missing since only a few months after I was born, with only her former cloak left behind." That was…peculiar. "I'm familiar with its association to the Grimeal, but I can assure you that the only association I have had with them is to kill a few who tried to waylay us on our way across the deserts." Seeming to preempt the next question she went on. "We have been searching for some old friends when this war broke out." How did that apply?

"Old friends? And how did that bring you here?" Dense he might occasionally be, but Chrom had a knack for finding the pointed question. "Given you were fleeing one war; I can't see getting involved in another your preferred option."

"We were going to, but just getting to the city ahead of those bastards was hard enough." Turning my attention to the brunette Cynthia was leaning on, it was an effort not to frown. All five of these people were more than competent fighters, just from looking at them. Why they seemed less than willing to try and leave the city when there was a two-day head start didn't quite add up. "And don't go suggesting we just up and leave." Scorn dripped from her words, expression narrow. Why not? Leaving now was probably the best way to ensure one lived the next forty-eight hours out.

"Rumor held that those we were looking for had recently been in the Capitol. At this point, the Plegia army is more than likely closer to a day and a half away, and we need to sleep, pushing the amount of head start we might have to less than a day, at which point we'll be chased and overwhelmed with numbers." Stepping back into the conversation, the purple haired woman took over, neatly tying up the various questions I might have asked. I had to wonder how she might have guessed what to say, but we didn't have time for me to muddle over that. "There also are things I believe you might want to be aware of."

"And that is?" By this point in the conversation, I could only conclude she had some kind of horrific fireball to drop upon us all. This woman was far too in control of the conversation for her to lead off with such a proclamation without being able to back its weight up.

In the several seconds of silence, said woman's gaze slid to the side, before her focus snapped back. "Gangrel has managed to acquire support of the Grimeal. He has promised to deliver them the Fire Emblem, and your Exalt's head in the process." I had managed to extrapolate that part. "At least several hundreds of them are with his current army, at least."

"Gods…" Taking a heavy breath Chrom swore a few more times. "More like Validar?" To my immense surprise that name generated a variety of reactions from this strange group, from hatred, to rage, to a resigned scowl.

"None quite so powerful as the Grimeal High Priest, but yes, similarly learned." A pause. "How in Grima's name have you encountered Validar?" I made a note that this strange purple haired woman swore to Grima; combined with her cloak that set of fairly significant alarm bells in my head, even if her story seemed truthful. Although Gri swore to the Fell Dragon, and had demonstrated herself to be quite antithetical to said dragon.

"He led the attempt on my sister's life recently." Chrom filled the void left by my wandering thoughts.

The entire group traded a variety of looks. I caught a variety of emotions, from fear, surprise, and disbelief being chief amongst them. "I…see. And what became of him?" Her tone was calm, although I feel the magic swirling about the room, building with her emotions.

"He's dead." I couldn't manage to put much emotion into the words. All five flinched backwards.

"And how did he die? That guy is crazy strong so…" Cynthia challenged my claim, now leaning against her friend once again. Said friend continued her scowling observance, but I could tell she was unsettled by the idea of Validar being killed.

"I couldn't for certain tell you the spell used to kill him, all I know for certain was that he screamed the entire time, and his bones were all that remained." All members of the group returned their focus to their purple haired member, who leaned forwards, hands placing onto the room's table.

"Suspended aloft in a vortex of black energy?" Magic was palpable now, small bits of fire starting to swirl about her hair. I shrugged, but Chrom nodded. "Grima's blood." And all the magic winked out, letting the weight on the room fall aside.

"You know what that spell was?" Brunette again. She'd sat up, dislodging her companion, and fixing Chrom and I with a heavy glare "If it can actually kill Validar, it has to be someone equally powerful, right?"

Silence filled the room. "Yes. I wasn't aware of anyone who was capable of casting such magic…" Shaking her head, the woman sighed. "that, I think, is a mystery for another day." Focus returning to Chrom and I, she bowed. "Our swords are yours for the time being, Prince Chrom."

 **AN: So…this took way too long. Mostly because my original draft of this chapter was about 10k. I chopped that in half, and ended up with almost that much again. Needless to say, pain in the ass. Like, every single character in this chapter is a pain in the ass. Except that random soldier lady. She was fine. All the rest…pain in the ass. And someone is a filthy filthy liar. That, and I was punchy as hell when writing parts of this, leading to such wonderful gems as 'continuing laughter continued', leaving the edits to a continual face palm. Hopefully, I am excised that garbage.**

 **Anyone who can guess Morgan's other parent wins….um…um…virtual cookies? (Aura isn't allow to play, she already knows.) You'll win something…I just haven't figured out what you win yet. There's a handful of hints in Robin's description of her, so best of luck.**

 **That's enough of that. I'll save the maniacal laughter and ranting for the next bit, that's the bit that deserves , reviews etc. are always appreciated. Now, I am off to finish writing a Siege.**


	24. Chapter Twenty-Two: Contemplation

**AN: So…apolgies for taking such an ungodly long time, but I promise I'm not dead. This ended up taking far longer than I ever intended it too (More on that at the end of the chapter), but, on the upside, I'll be able to do a weekly update for the next month or so, because Chapters 23-26 are basically done.**

* * *

 **Chapter Twenty-Two: Contemplation**

 **Light in Shadow: Arielle**

"Lady Arielle? Lady Lucina?" The knock at the door was soft, just another of the strange courtesies we were afforded. I cocked my head, without rising from my position on the room's only bed. Sleep did not come easy, on the periphery of my consciousness Grima was delighted, presumably the impeding battle in Ylisse. "There's a person here to see you."

Lucina paused, letting her Falchion drop into her lap, dirty rag still wrapped around the blade. For a short moment, her gaze drifted to me, snapping away again when I offered only a small shrug. No one in this time would know my name, besides those in this little village, so I doubted whoever this was sought me in particular. Closing my eyes, I let my senses extend, brushing against the magical aura of everyone in the building, grateful those didn't fade with my weakened magic.

"It seems that some of your friends found us." Three magical presences, pushed at the edge of my consciousness. One, bright, pulsing with the same weight I usually attributed to Lucina herself. "The manakete," one I could barely feel, even if it was stronger than the average peasant, and another, magical in nature, alongside something darker, "and two I don't recognize."

"I see." Snapping her Falchion into its sheath, Lucina offered a hand, as another coughing fit came over me, pulling me upright when it passed. Grabbing my own sword, I followed Lucina out of the room and down the stairs, doing my best to quell my increasingly erratic heartbeat. While my increasing association with Lucina made an encounter with her compatriots inevitable, I could not consider myself ready for such an encounter, standing on the brink of powerlessness.

Memorizing Lucina's companions always provided a welcome distraction during my moments of lucidity when possessed. None the less, clapping eyes upon them as myself, instead of via the eyes of Grima presented yet more uncomfortable reality. These were people with many entirely legitimate grudges against Grima, and by extension, myself. Worse, of her companions, the three sitting in the corner, were among the last I wanted to deal with.

Kjelle. Sully's daughter. Her Mother had been relatively fortunate, dying quickly. Noire, Tharja's daughter. In fairness, Grima never involved me in whatever happened to Tharja, but that knowledge wouldn't exactly have propagated. One of the first captured, during the fall of Plegia, although Grima did little with her, for reasons unknown. Finally, Nah, manakete, daughter of Nowi. Her fate would surprise no one, given the connection between manaketes and Naga herself.

"Lucina." Kjelle was the first to speak, stoic expression dropping to one of relief upon sight of their 'leader', only to return when her gaze shifted to me. "Who's the friend?" Nah gave me a once over, serene half smile set firmly in place. In contrast, Noire shifted, seeming uneasy, her eyes drifting away from the two of us. Both reaction struck me as predictable.

"Kjelle? Nah? Noire?" I had to give credit, she feigned surprised well. Then again, Lucina managed to sell the Shepherds on her Marth persona for quite some time, so she wasn't a terrible actor. "I…didn't expect to find any of you here." She took the open seat at the table, and I slumped against the wall, arms folded over my chest, in an attempt to disguise my panic.

"It is good to see you Lucina." Nah's smile, while genuine, almost passed for her resting expression. Greeting out of the way, her full attention fell upon me. "I'm afraid we haven't met before." She lacked the gravitas of Tiki, or even Nowi, likely due to age, her but draconic blood still lent her a force of presence that commanded some attention.

"This is Arielle." Lucina, dipped her head in my direction. "She been traveling with me, and assisting the Shepherds in dealing with the Grimeal and Plegia." A very Marth-like answer, being factually accurate without containing a single useful detail. A quick look at the others told me they didn't buy it.

"She doesn't look like much." Armor clanking, Kjelle leaned forwards, elbows resting on the table. "Little raggedy I guess." I suppose I couldn't complain if they simply dismissed me as a threat, given the circumstances. Alternatively, this would become substantially worse when they learned the truth.

"Arielle…" Nah turned my name over, leaving me wanting to squirm. "Kjelle, if she is capable of fighting Grima's faithful, then she is more than she appears."

"She…" Noire stumbled over the words, still refusing to look at me. "She's very powerful." Although Tharja should have passed magical talent on to her daughter, her use of bows in battle suggested the girl either suppressed or refused to utilize such talents . Of course, that single sentence threw that idea into limbo. "Even looking at her hurts." I rubbed my temples. Looking at me hurt? Magesight? I shook my head. That question would wait for another time.

Rolling my shoulders into a vague shrug, I elected to speak for myself. "Maybe. I'm a bit exhausted at the moment." That was a worrying thought, actually. As I recovered from my latest episode of stupidity, my aura would recover with it, surely tipping Nah or Noire, it seemed, off to my identity.

"So you can use some magic." Kjelle made a dismissive gesture. Just like her Mother then. "Can you actually use _that?_ " Her wrist flicked in the direction of my hip.

"Yes." Probably better than she could, in all honesty. Lolling my head to the side, I matched her stare, keeping mine blank, just a small hint of amusement in the set of my lips.

"Arielle is more than capable of defending herself." Lucina affirmed. "She was responsible for the death of Validar during the attempted assassination of the Exalt." Nah jerked, façade breaking for long enough to show surprise, before settling in, albeit tinged with more attention than before. Shrinking further into herself, Noire pinned her gaze into the floor, seeming ever more uncomfortable with the situation.

Kjelle, however, snorted. "Her? Yeah right. She looks like a stiff wind would blow her over." Laurent looked like a stiff wind would knock him over, and I would bet him against most magical warriors of the modern era with utter confidence in his abilities. "How the hell did you manage to off the High Priest himself?"

Unfortunately, any retort I made opened more questions, not that I was keen on brandishing ego with a teenager. Worse, I doubted much time would pass before Kjelle wanted proof of the claim I could fight, at which point, I would be in all kinds of trouble. Lucina subtly arched an eyebrow in my direction, as if I wasn't aware this decision was mine to make.

"Okay, what'd you do?" After several minutes of silence Kjelle started demanding. "You're thinking awful hard about something simple like killing one of the biggest bastards the Grimeal had."

Perhaps the truth, then, or at least, part of it. "I killed Validar by turning his own magic against him." Noire put things together first. Nah cottoned on a few seconds later, lips drawing back into a quiet snarl. "I left the Grimeal as a child, and haven't looked back since." Kjelle's hand blurred for a knife, or something else sharp, only to freeze when Lucina pinned her with a glare. "As a result, Validar's usual tricks fall short, allowing me to meet him on a more even playing field." I might have even prayed to Grima that they left things alone from there.

"Still doesn't explain how you killed Validar." Kjelle shot back. "Always heard that he was stupid powerful, some kind of demi-god or some such, so don't see how you'd be able to kill him…Grima's bitch or otherwise." The sound that left from my throat resembled a draconic snarl more than any human vocalization.

"Kjelle." Steel radiated from Lucina's tone. "Arielle has proven that she owes Grima no loyalty." What I had done to inspire such confidence, I couldn't say. Perhaps a bluff, although some distant part of my consciousness begged it not to be. "Her killing of Validar is merely a further example of that."

"Kjelle's question of how she is powerful enough to do so does remain however." Of course, Nah wasn't about to let that point drop, both being a manakete, and being Nowi's daughter. "Validar is someone more than capable matching Morgan in battle, and Morgan always insisted that both his strength, and her own were highly unusual."

"Arielle?". Neither her, nor Marth liked speaking on matters they didn't understand, so leaving that question to me did make sense. .

Perhaps the best option was to simply shrug away the question, and leave the exact level of power I possessed up to interpretation. While this method seemed solid, it merely moved the problem down the road. Not only that, but I couldn't see any of them taking that answer, they would only pester Lucina if I continued to be reticent about things. Lucina insisted I could trust them, and if Noire truly did possess mage sight, this problem would only get worse. "There is a presupposition that Validar then, and Validar now are equivalently powerful." Clearly, I had been about Lucina to long, now I was giving Marth answers.

"What?" Kjelle shook her head, thumping a fist onto the table out of obvious frustration.

All at once, calm flooded me. "Validar as you know him is infinitely more powerful than the Validar I obliterated in Ylisse. Although, the outcome of the battle would have remained the same, regardless of which one I did battle with. Grima granted him not inconsiderable power, at the expense of his already limited sanity."

Shaking her head, Lucina seemed caught between humor and disbelief. "I was not aware he could have ever been considered sane."

"He was a madman." Kjelle shot back, almost at once.

Describing my Father as a madman seemed altogether redundant. "Yes. By the time of your birth, Validar had succumbed entirely, the mere presence of his God shattering what fragile mental faculties he retained. However, prior to that, one would have been forgiven for mistaking him for any other psychopath. Bloodthirsty, certainly, but also ruthless and calculating."

"You sound like you know him personally." How on earth did someone as spacey as Nowi produce a daughter as perceptive and accurate as Nah.

I flipped a bit of hair out of my eye. "Considering he is my father; I would say I am intimately familiar with him." Shock rippled across their faces, providing me with a sort of twisted satisfaction. "Please. Give Validar a little credit. He's not going to let himself get turned to ash by some nobody. Or let his daughter turn into a sniveling coward." Hacking coughs disrupted my monologue for a moment. "Of course, his daughter wasn't supposed to get ideas above her station and leave either." Whatever thought I tried to grasp, died in a hacking fit.

"You're running around with Validar's daughter?" Kjelle started to rise, his voice starting to rise.

"I don't imagine me being his daughter matters at this point." I cut off her building eruption, my calm fading to anger, and anger giving way to vitriol in turn. "Do you think you could commit patricide?" Silence fell as the words sank in. "You should consider yourself lucky, Kjelle, daughter of Sully. You had parents who cared about you, loved, you." For the first time, her combative attitude faltered. "I don't see any point in beating around the point, at this juncture. You three would remember me best as the Lady of Grima, and the Avatar he used…" My fingers tightened about the hilt of my Falchion, a small push of magic, washing up my limbs.

Lucina cut in. "Morgan's theory about Grima possessing an unwilling vessel was…is," her eyes darted to me, somewhat question, "correct. Arielle spent her life as much Grima's pawn as we were."

"Even amongst the Grimeal, patricide is more than frowned upon…even if I wanted to rejoin them, there would be nothing in it." Holding Kjelle's eyes, I took a step forwards, my superior height lending some small amount of intimidation. "I have lived centuries since you traveled back, watched the world writhe and burn under the yoke of a tyrannical god with no interest in protecting it. I had borne the weight of that suffering and failure for centuries. I will _not_ live to see that happen again."

All three of them were silent, seeming to process my words in their own ways. Nah relaxed the smallest fraction, although I could see tension lingering in her face and neck. Noire didn't relax, although her hands drifted from her weapons, seemingly in recognition that, at least, we held a common enemy.

Meanwhile, Kjelle fixed me with a searching look, all my effort going into remaining still, or lashing out against the overwhelming vulnerability I felt, anything to suggest to her I might be predisposed to violence. A formidable warrior by any metric, Kjelle did in fact represent a significant threat to my wellbeing.

Letting the tension mount for a few seconds longer, I turned away, unable to put up with everything going on at this point. "Lucina." Giving her a short nod, I swept out of them into the bitter cold outside.

Ice crystals crunched beneath my boots, pricking at the edges of my thoughts as I warred with my own emotions. Childhood training, and centuries of experience taught me that emotionality landed me in these situations. Anger caused me to kill Validar, irrational fear and panic sent us flying across the continent in a feat of magic that left me bereft of power. Sympathy and empathy caused me to come back. Flipping a lock of hair back into place, only for the wind to throw it back again, I took a long breath. While I couldn't say for certain Grima might take control should I lose control, that possibility was unacceptable.

My aimless wandering brought me before a dying tree, some distance outside the village. All of this was pathetic. Seven hundred years of surviving in a hellscape, defying a God, enduring war, and I ran in fear from a bunch of children, whose approval didn't matter to me. They presented a convenient means to an end, nothing else. That thought rang hollow, even if I ignored it.

Falchion left its sheath soundlessly, edge catching the wan light as the hilt spun between my fingers. For the first time since I laid hands upon it, the Divine Blade kept its 'council' to itself, leaving its usual distaste aside. Sparing the weapon, a single, spiteful glare, I let my thoughts drift.

Wood splintered under Falchion's edge, weapon sinking half a foot into the rotten trunk. Ripping the blade from the tree, I huffed, before striking again, a simple, shoulder to hip strike. Falchion chimed, and my wrist spinning for the back cut. More splinters flew. Spin, thrust, twist. I allowed my mind to empty, an old exercise from when I was just a child. _'Empty your mind. Think of nothing but the blade in your hand. It is a part of you. An extension of your arm, with which you will destroy the enemies who stand before you. Now. Clear your mind, there are no distractions on the field of war.'_ Unlike Validar, the Grimeal woman who had taught me to use the sword had a few useful lessons.

"What'd that poor tree do to you?" Sparks flashed as metal clashed against metal, dragging my focus back into the world around me. "Bloody hell!" Kjelle's eyes were wide, Falchion caught on the head of her spear from my instinctive strike.

"My apologies." Stepping back gave me both distance and a few seconds to refocus on the world around me. Kjelle's initial question lacked any outright malice, and it seemed appropriate to answer in kind. "An exercise to clear the mind. One in which I tend to react on instinct."

Kjelle lowered her weapon, expression not losing much of its severity, although her eyes were more questioning than hostile. "What's your game? And what did you do to Lucina?" Well then. I expected her to dance about the point a bit more than that. Perhaps probe a little before setting straight on me with that question.

"Nothing." My left hand snapped up, cutting off her no doubt indignant response. "I have done nothing to Lucina, beyond be the person I become in the centuries after you left." My words were not entirely a bluff, although close scrutiny might suggest otherwise.

Kjelle's armor rattled as her stance widened. "She mentioned that. And said you did some, 'favor' to help her sleep? What'd you do?" With a flourish I sheathed my Falchion, adopting the least threatening stance I could. That was one of the questions that might implied my previous words to be a bluff.

"Are you familiar with why Lucina doesn't sleep?" Kjelle's eyes dropped, a brief flash of something on her face. "I'll take that as confirmation that you are at least aware of her nightmares." At once her eyes snapped up, fierce glare in place once again. "Good." Stalling would not do anything useful for me, no matter how I wished otherwise, thus leaving me with the uncomfortable truth. However, the truth stood the highest chance of seeing me impaled. "The favor Lucina refers to involves a rather archaic piece of magic that transfers the dreams of one person to another.

"So you admit to messing with her head then?" Her lance leveled at my chest, fire igniting in her eyes. Instinct screamed for me to draw my blade and fight, at least to try and stand my ground in a fight that would not end well for me. Reason prevailed even if I felt my heart jump.

"There is no magic that can influence the mind." Clear the mind. _Emotions will destroy you_. _I can teach you to hold a weapon, but if you don't master yourself, that is all I can do._ And I thought I had done so, but the small bits of fear causing my heart to race suggested otherwise. "I realize the tales paint me as capable of godly feats, but I am constrained by the limits of magic just as anyone else. Manipulation of the mind is amongst those feats of magic that are impossible, for anyone. God, or mortal." Perhaps a bit arrogant, to put myself in the same sentence as legitimate deities, but I needed the gravitas that comparison lent. "Besides, do you truly believe I could manipulate Lucina?"

"And why should I believe you?" She was far too close for comfort, scant two feet between us, her spear gripped close to the point, feet spread to provide a solid footing to drive the metal into my lungs. If nothing else, I would give credit where it was due, she was stubborn. More than I might have anticipated. "Maybe not. But even Lucina admits you lie." I couldn't decide if those words amounted to a cleverly laid trap, given that all humans lied, or the sort of question asked by people who didn't understand their own words.

"Unless you have Morgan or Laurent with you to verify my claims about the nature of magic itself, I'm afraid I have little to offer you at the moment." Rather, nothing that she might accept. My thoughts raced searching for something, anything to keep this situation from escalating to violence.

Soft crunching snow signaled the approach of someone else; Nah based on the length of time between steps, and the relative quiet, as compared to Lucina's steps. My heart involuntarily skipped a few beats, as the possibility that this entire thing was some elaborate attempt to kill me came, and went. Nah did not seem predisposed to violence, and if they were going to try and kill me, Noire would be present as well.

"So, what you're saying is that you don't have anything to verify a word you just said?" And there it was, the point where Kjelle stopped caring about the words coming out of my mouth. I held the girl's gaze, my hand drifting to my sword, the feeble bits of magic as my disposal starting to flare, survival instincts taking hold. Taking my silence for an answer, she snorted. "That's what I thought."

"Kjelle. Wait." Kjell froze, muscles coiled. The very tip of her weapon, poised inches from my chest, vibrated. Nah didn't raise her voice, none the less her words fell like a stone, seeming to nearly compel her companion into stillness. "Lady Arielle."

"Manakete." Nah had stopped a few yards away, seeming altogether unphazed by the cold, despite wearing only a thin dress and stockings. My eyes settled on the Dragonstone resting over her collarbone, pulsing from within with light and magic. Each one of those stones carried more value than some entire kingdoms. Powerful magic, designed to chain the might of dragons, might that even Grima respected at the height of his powers.

"What do you want Nah?" Kjelle backed off, although I could see did didn't like being interrupted.

"I want to talk to her Kjelle." Something about the words came off as chiding, and I let the idea that all this amount to a plot to kill me die away. "Morgan was always quite adamant that the Lady of Grima was an unwilling vessel, and even convinced Severa of that fact. For Lucina to agree, and be willing to defend Lady Arielle suggests there is more at work than we were aware of." Lucina mentioned Morgan's insistence of my being possessed in the past, but I never could bring myself to ask about it further. "I am curious how she might have convinced Lucina, given that magic cannot change one's mind."

"I am unsure." Holding Nah's gaze for a few moments, I turned away. "And I believe you mistake begrudging alliance for trust, or belief."

"What does that mean?" Whereas Lucina delivered such a challenge in a steely tone, and Kjelle would have infused the words with aggressive dissent, Nah just asked. No accusation, or assumption. "That she would travel with you, speaks to a degree of trust Lucina rarely shares." Given the topic of conversation, Nah struck me as far to calm. Even taking into account the possibility of her accepting the idea that I had been an unwilling vessel for Grima, the idea that Lucina trusted me should have set off a more dramatic reaction.

"To much." Kjelle tacked on. "She messed with Lucina's head."

"No, she did not." Nah reiterated with a degree of firmness at odds with the way she had spoken before. "Magic cannot influence the mind. Morgan has told me as much many times." For a fraction of a second a smile won over my control. "Further, Falchion would protect Lucina from any such magic's." While I didn't know for certain, that seemed logical. Better, it was an avenue I could use to appease Kjelle, and prevent this situation from escalating into outright violence.

"Falchion repulses all things with their origins in Grima" Offering the confirmation easily enough, I let my hand fall on my own blade's hilt, leaving the question floating at the forefront of my consciousness. In reply, a spike of something, anger, agreement, or maybe just annoyance rolled over me. "Lucina's blade dislikes me considerably more than my own, so I can't imagine if I tried to cast Fell magic upon her that I would survive." While the idea that my _sword_ disliked me didn't exactly encourage positive thoughts, I was perhaps the least qualified wielder of the weapon in history.

"Even your own sword hates you? That's kinda pathetic." Kjelle cackled, before quieting down when I failed to offer a rebuttal. "I mean, really."

"I am the Lady of Grima. My very existence in antithetical to the concepts Naga's believers and sacred artifacts hold true." Stopping before I started to lecture, I toss an expansive gesture towards the mountain vista. "You ask why I doubt Lucina trusts me, manakete? Look about you…and name a place in your future that this could be found." I didn't wait for a reply. "Even seven hundred years after you departed to the past, there was none. Peace and beauty became long forgotten concepts. Even in those places I could protect, this was true." Spinning again, I fixed Nah with a harsh glare. "Who would trust someone whose weakness propagated that tragedy?"

Predictably, my glare rolled right off. "According to her, you were never willing to be possessed by Grima, with that scar on your neck being from an attempt to see him killed." Without thinking, my hand rose to trace the ancient wound. None of the villagers commented on the mark, despite the fact I had spent much time without my cloak. "You fought against the Grimeal since returning to this time, assisted out parents, and by your own admission killed the man who was your own Father." Nah's lips twitched. "You fought side by side with the wielder of Falchion, something no Grimeal would so much as consider…never mind the Lady of Grima."

"That may be, but coming back in time does not erase my connection to the Fell Dragon." My counter took a moment to form, my already chaotic thoughts churned to new heights by the tiny dragon-girl. "I am the Lady of Grima. In my veins flows his power. I might better be described as a living weapon, created by Grima, to use against people like you and Lucina." I shrugged, halfheartedly. "I am free of those chains, yes, but who, and what, I am, has not changed."

Nah nodded, frowning, just slightly. "What are manakete's, Lady Arielle?"

That was, beyond any shadow of a doubt a non-sequitur, although one that piqued my interest. "Former Dragons who adopted a human form to avoid being driven insane by some genetic or magical defect. They bear stones imbued with magic, some claim from Naga herself, to allow them the ability to shift between forms. Immortal, or close enough to it, and live under constant threat of madness, should they lose their stone, or be trapped in either form for too long. Divided into a number of tribes in ancient times, although how much of that is truth, and how much is fiction is a matter of some debate." Flicking a lock of hair back over my shoulder, I tipped my head, waiting.

Nah's lips parted in a half smile. "The only manakete's left are those who descended from Divine Dragons." That did not surprise me. Divine dragons were in myths always the most powerful, the actual descendents of Naga. Even in histories of Marth, the other tribes had been fading. That Naga's progeny lived on made sense to me, she would favor them if possible. "Prior to first Grima's attack on the Mila Tree, I spoke to Lady Tiki."

"I am…familiar with her." My voice hitched over which term to use. Familiar seemed far too bland, and non-descript, but any other term struck me as equally unwise to use. Further, Nah had to be exceptionally young, to have spoken with the demigoddess prior to Grima's attack.

Young or not, she learned the amused half smile from Tiki. "All manaketes know of Lady Tiki. A demigoddess, held up in myth and legend as the paragon of our kind. A pinnacle for us to strive towards. She told me that I shouldn't strive to be as she was. Or as anyone who came to before me was. I should focus on being who I care about being."

"What's your point?" Kjelle, clearly, had little patience for the philosophical debate that seemed imminent, rocking back and forth on her feet, fingers flexing about the haft of her spear.

"I would argue that while Lady Arielle bears the title of Lady of Grima, that does not preclude her from making that title into whatever she wishes." The manakete girl's gaze stayed locked to me as she spoke, confident, soft, but sure, lingering there.

"You are hardly the first person to tell me that, manakete." Most of 'my' cult tried, arguing for me to lead a revolution to rebuild the world in my image. "There is little room for interpretation in the title Lady of Grima. I am his Champion. A being infused with the raw power of the Fell Dragon himself. That is immutable."

Nah turned on her heel. "Lucina seems to believe you can be something more than just your title." She started away, before stopping. "You are only defined by those things you allow to do so, Lady Arielle." Kjelle and I watched in silence as she walked back into the village, vanishing behind one building or another. When Nah at last vanished from sight, Kjelle turned, staring at me for minutes on end, before hefting her spear and stalking away, back into the village.

 ** _-FE:DUL-_**

"Arielle?" Lucina. Just at the edge of my consciousness, her presence oddly muted against the otherwise vibrant tapestry of the village. Spinning Falchion between my fingers once again, I brought the blade down, burying it several inches into the tree's rotted trunk, the metal vibrating just a bit from the sheer force of the blow. "What are you doing?"

"I am killing this tree." My muscles ached, and I could already feel the small bits of my magic creeping outwards insistent on repairing the damage I had done to myself. I grabbed ahold of that magic, and quashed it. At once, the pain flared, brighter than just moments before.

She sighed, snow crinkling as her weight shifted between her feet. "I think, on the off chance it was alive, you've rendered it quite dead." Unbidden, laughter ripped from my lips, a menacing bark that sent spasm of pain lashing up my side, chased by another fit of coughs, copper pooling on my tongue. "You're going to kill yourself doing this." Something heavy dropped across my shoulders, and Lucina's presence once again came alive, briefly supplanting the comfortable warmth of my cloak.

"Would spare your companions the effort." Kjelle, more than the others, it seemed. "Spare you listening to them whine about it."

"Kjelle isn't going to kill you." Confidence I did not share set in her words. In contrast to her vulnerability days before, Lucina radiated surety. "Nah agrees with Morgan's theory, and Noire doesn't wish you dead, although you do perhaps unnerve her. Kjelle will calm down in a few days." Rising to my full height again, I abandoned all pretense of hiding my emotions, letting naked disbelief flash across my face. "She can be a bit hotheaded, but she isn't going to kill you in your sleep."

"No. She would stab me when I was awake." Spitting a lump of blood, I allowed myself an undignified huff. "Not that she'd need to do much…I apparently am bleeding in the lungs again." As though to reinforce the point, another wave of cough rattled my chest. "Grima damnit…" Blood always took forever to stop tasting. Magic pulsed beneath my skin once more, and I swatted it aside.

Lucina didn't have a reply to that. Her presence lingered at my side, breath throwing small puffs in the cooling air. An occasional gust of wind would catch her cape, producing a harsh snap, although she remained quiet. In the distance, the sun began to set, throwing brilliant multihued rays across the mountains, a beautiful sight, undercut by the solemn silence that accompanied it.

"You feel it, don't you?" As the seconds dragged on, the small, quiet part of me that would forever be chained to Grima churned, feeling the rising glee in the Fell Dragon.

Lucina shifted. "Yes."

"It has been centuries, but that feeling hasn't changed." Ugly, twisted laugher – a memory – played in my head. "Neither does the regret." Cloth rustled. "There was a phrase those who endured Grima's wrath adopted, as the centuries drug all. 'All things must die' and, 'All things have purpose'. Words that gave them hope, hope that, one day, Grima would fall away, and their descendants thrive." The sun slipped beneath the horizon, twilight falling in earnest. "If all things must die, Lucina…just who have I sentenced to die tonight? Who will fall on the Grimeal blade because I stand, here, and now? And whose ends does that death serve?"

Her hand wrapped over my balled fist, a cold comfort of its own.

 **AN: Right. I think I promised ranting at the end of last chapter, but it's been six months, and I've literally rewritten the next four chapters twice, gotten sidetracked by Xenoblade Chronicles X (because I don't have enough giant ass video games to beat), and just generally life stuff has happened. On the plus side, regular updates will be a thing for a while, (hopefully quite a bit, as I should be able to get ahead on the writing front.**

 **Next Chapter starts the Siege, proper, which is a novella in and of itself, clocking in at about 26k words all by itself. This also marks what I suspcect to be the end of single POV chapters, perhaps at all. If these are something you prefer, let me know, but I think for the sake of the story I'm going to start breaking the POV up going forwards.**

 **Reviews, questions, concerns are all appreciated. I shall return next week with your next installment of Bad Things Happen to People Who Don't Deserve It.**


	25. Chapter Twenty-Three: Dogs of War

**Chapter Twenty-Three: Dogs of War**

 **Tactician of Ylisse: Robin**

Cordelia found me pouring over a map of the city at dawn, occasionally scribbling on one of a variety of papers I had littered about the area, defining and redefining my plans. To her credit she didn't react to my frayed appearance, only leaning over my shoulder in an attempt to decipher the unruly scrawl on one of the various maps arrayed before me. Of course, the fact I only noticed her in a peripheral sense might have helped in that regard.

"We're going to have a problem taking off if you station the pegasi there." She tapped a spot, farther into the city, that I had marked as a tentative staging ground for the Pegasus Knights.

"I know." Setting the pen down for a moment, I failed to suppress a sigh. "That's one of the problems I looking to rectify before tomorrow morning." Hopefully sooner. I wanted this plan as airtight as I could make it before the final planning conference in the morning, but specific reports were in short supply and Cynthia, the Pegasus Knight of Morgan's little group, could only spend so many hours in the saddle; despite her insistence she could keep going. I refused the offer, preferring to have the girl in fighting shape when the actual battle began, as according to Cordelia and Sumia the blue haired girl could fly circles around almost any of them.

"We'll be ready." At least some of them believed that. Given everything arrayed against us, I couldn't see many ways this could end in anything less than a devastating pyrrhic victory. Sieges favored the defenders, but magic rewrote the rules of battle.

Slumping into my chair, I chose to ignore our chances of victory. "I've been staring at this map far too long." Given that I couldn't remember going to sleep last night, perhaps it was time for a break. If nothing else, a short respite might clear my head.

Cordelia managed a halfhearted giggle, perhaps a bit of morbid humor. "We know. Everyone is worried about you; you've been holed up in here for hours." I bit down on the urge to ask if they held some kind of contest to decide who got to come bother me.

"Half of my plans went out the window the same instant Morgan walked into the city, and the part that didn't still needs work before I'm willing to risk lives on it. Couple our already in progress efforts, ones that cannot be changed, and the task gets ever more difficult." Sympathy flared in Cordelia's eyes. In the back of my head, I knew this conversation would come, whenever one of the others came looking for me. None the less, I found myself at a loss of how to proceed with it. I didn't want to publically declare how long the odds against us were. Fortunately, Morgan and her compatriots weren't talking. Chrom likewise kept silent, throwing himself into aiding with the preparations.

Cordelia opened her mouth to speak, before closing it again, no doubt quashing some empty platitude. Despite any attempt to keep her ignorant, it would be an insult to her intelligence to assume Cordelia didn't figure out at least part of what was to come. "Take a break, at least for a few minutes." Something in her eyes caught me short in my objection. "Give your head some time to clear. Trust me." Given that Cordelia's reputation said she worked herself to be bone, I conceded she perhaps knew what she was talking about. Reluctantly, I rose from my chair, turning away from the plans and maps.

Cordelia watched me stretch, joints snapping angrily at the sudden motions. Gazing out the rooms only window, I let my thoughts drift, somewhere, anywhere, that wasn't the enormity of the task at hand. "Robin?" I turned my head, motioning to indicate I heard. "Can you…can you help me with…" Her eyes dropped, hands wringing.

"Fell Magic?" I guessed after two uncomfortable minutes of silence. The subject was one the two of us did not broach often, Cordelia seeming uncomfortable, and I didn't feel knowledgeable enough to represent any kind of authority. "I don't know much more than you do, Cordelia. Gri taught me bits, and I can guess at other parts, but..." I couldn't speak for Cordelia but after what happened with Validar, and hearing Grima rant and rave behind my ears, I found myself leery of touching the corruptive magic again.

"But neither of us considered the idea that Gri herself possessed so much power, or had thought about what it meant to be associated with magic like that? I…I've fought Validar before." It took my brain a second to catch up and realize that before referred to when her entire squad got wiped out. "I considered him to be the benchmark for the evils one could do with this." A small whisper, a tiny black flame danced in her hand. "She seemed so different from Validar. More in control. Saner. But when she killed him, it was the same feeling…as if I looked at two different versions of the same person." Cordelia stopped for a moment, seeming to collect her thoughts. "How can one person be that powerful? Validar was the most powerful I could imagine one of them being and she destroyed him. I can barely stand in the same room as Validar, who folded the same way before her." Cordelia managed a weak chuckle. "I knew she was strong, of course, but everyone knows if you learn to fight in other ways, your skill in magic is diminished. That a person can master one, but not the other. Even Gri warned me that my advancement in magic would be slower than Miriel or Ricken for example."

"Very few can." Nothing Cordelia said could be refuted, lining up with my own concerns. "Although that is more due to the fact that the majority of people born with magical talent are frail, or less physically adept than those without, as opposed to any serious conflict between skills. The lucky few such as myself, Gri, you, or Sumia, avoid that problem. All that stands in our way is having the time to master both skills." I moved to the window staring out over the city. Sunrise threw long shadows from the walls, cloaking much of the city in pseudo-night for some time yet. Already, I could see soldiers milling the streets, citizens moving back into the safety of the inner city, as our preparations continued.

"Are we…will…" Armor rattling, Cordelia began to pace. "What does it mean, that we have that kind of magic?"

I took a moment to try and break the question down in my head, and formulate my answer. "Nothing." On that, I felt reasonably confident. Gri herself always insisted the powers we wielded did not define us, our actions when wielding them. "Cordelia, what does my cloak symbolize?" While a leading question, the answer promised to be interesting.

"Cloaks of that pattern are often worn by those of high rank amongst the Grimeal. How one earns them is unknown, but their owners tend to be psychopaths, leading their cult in their assorted depravities." A dry, technical answer, more or less identical to my own findings. "Validar had a far more ornate robe, so I suppose it's possible that they are given to priests and priestesses?" Cordelia's armor rattled, probably a shrug.

"Insofar as I have been able to determine, that is correct." Turning back to her, I took a deep breath, hoping the words would sound genuine. "I have no memories from before the Shepherds. Worshiping Grima, even the idea appalls me. Gri, left them, at half our age. For that matter, Morgan received her cloak as a memento from her Mother. None of us would serve Grima. You, fought Validar himself, no Grimeal would do that. It doesn't matter what powers we have Cordelia, or whose cloak we wear. We chose who we are. No one or nothing else does."

 _You are a wonderful liar, girl._ As always Grima wormed his way in, sibilant whispers brushing at the edges of my consciousness. _You will all succumb in the end. You will watch all you love burn._ Ignoring him as best I could, I watched myriad emotions flashed across Cordelia's features. Worry, disagreement, loss, and others I couldn't identify in time.

"We're going to have to fight them, aren't we? People like Validar?" Resignation tinged the words. Fear, as well, although she hid that well enough.

"Yes." In this, lying would serve nothing. "I'll admit I'm going to attempt to lean on Morgan and her little group for that." Callous as that plan might be, a single glance at Morgan indicated she possessed more raw power than I did, and her compatriots purported to have fought Grimeal before. Relief shone through before a sympathetic wince took over. Part of that decision, however, centered on the fact that I would not be fighting on the front lines nearly as much during this battle as I had in the past. Coordinating the defenses fell on my shoulders which would be a considerable endeavor, at least initially.

"I see." Cordelia wrestled with herself. "Should we…" She took a steadying breath. "Do you believe we can learn more of Grima's magic? Without turning into monsters?"

 _Yes._ Grima supplied the answer readily, as if any answer he gave would be trusted.

"I don't know." Absently, I started tracing the runes on my cloak. "I don't think I have a choice in the end. If I'm going to fight them, I have to know how they think and fight. And if that means learning at least some of their twisted magic, then that's what I have to do." Privately, I wasn't sure if that was simply the lie I told myself or if I really thought it was going to matter. "While we are on the subject, you had asked me about putting defensive runes into a set of armor like my cloak?"

Cordelia nodded, eyes lighting up at the mention. "I had."

"Come find me tonight, we'll make it happen." A thought hit me, a bit spur of the moment. "Actually, no. Gather the Shepherds, we'll do them for everyone. I can teach you the runes quickly and easily." Cordelia, no doubt, would pick them up faster than I did, saving time and energy for me.

"We can do that?" When I nodded, a radiant smile formed. "And for anyone outside the Shepherds?"

"Morgan's group is unlikely to want them, given their dislike of all things related to Grima. If time didn't matter, I would suggest that everyone in the army have their armor etched, but there is simply not time to do so." Cordelia nodded in reluctant agreement. "Now, I need to finalize these plans. Can you tell Chrom that I have not been swallowed by the maps?"

 _ **-FE:DUL-**_

Shortly after taking a break to eat, I set about the task of gathering everyone who needed to be brought up to speed on what my plans were, a task that took longer than I might have expected. Staring at the sea of faces in the Exalts chambers, I tried to clamp down on the rising anxiety about how everyone would react to my words.

"What news do you have, Lady Robin?" Emmeryn's personal guard, Philia, if I recalled correctly, broke the uneasy silence that formed as the final commanders trickled in. Giving it a few minutes to settle down I gathered everyone's attention.

"Plegia will be upon us by nightfall tomorrow." I expected a riot, making the stone faced acceptance a pleasant surprise. A few leaned over the maps I had laid out, frowning at the diagrams and scribbled notes. "Gangrel appears to have mustered at least seventy-thousand soldiers, along with Grimeal irregulars." That drew incredulous shouts from the less experienced in the room. I could see the older Generals and Captains absorb the figure and begin to size up the odds of victory, and almost simultaneously reach the same conclusions I had. Under Emmeryn the Ylissean army had decreased in size, and, if I was being honest quality. Perhaps twelve thousand professional soldiers in all. We had another twelve to fifteen thousand volunteers who had been in the Army prior to the stand down, and another seven to ten thousand barely trained volunteers. At best we were outnumbered two to one, and a more realistic estimate offered even less favorable odds.

"How do we know those numbers are good?" Someone challenged, lost in the sea of faces. "Last report Philia gave said fifty-thousand at most."

"Our newest arrivals provided the initial number, and having reviewed the reports from our scouts, I concur with their assessment." I nodded in the direction of Morgan, who stood off to the side, her arms hidden beneath her cloak, posture stiff. "More concerning than simple numbers, they do not appear to be bringing equipment to lay siege to the walls." Flicking my wrist, a bit of magic unrolled another map, this one far less marked upon. "Reinforcements from Ferox are at least six days' hard march away, if they set out at once, which I imagine they did not." Emmeryn looked ill. "The last group of scouts has not yet reported back, at this point, I have to conclude they were killed, and we can only estimate the location of the enemy." My fingers pressed against the edge of the map, I exerted the minor effort of will to create many, tiny pinpricks of fire, leaving small black dots in a thin line I traced with my finger. "That places Plegian advance forces here." Someone swore. I kept my reaction muted, hiding a strained

"We aren't ready." My eyes were on the map, so I didn't see who spoke.

Of course we weren't ready. Ylisse valued piece, and their actions as a military reflected that. Thus, an invasion of any sort would be under less than ideal circumstances. "We will be." Waving a hand to dismiss the point, I plowed ahead, not wanting anyone to get caught up in the odds of victory now. "Are there civilians left in the outer ring of the city?"

Captain Argus, a veteran soldier from the previous wars stepped forwards. Appointed commander of the militia forces, Sully and Stahl claimed he'd turned them into something better than cannon fodder, and lacking any other means to see them trained, I'd acquiesced. "The first tier of this City is clear Ma'am. We've begun work on shoring up the gates, and preparing fortifications to hold the main roads if the gates fall." Good initiative too, I planned to give those orders.

"Good. We have to face the fact we cannot hold the outer wall of the city for long. We lack the forces to do so, and a protracted siege suits our interests far better than it does Gangrel's. I suspect they intend to breach our defenses with magic and overwhelm with superior numbers." I took a moment to gauge their reactions before going on. "The presence of the Grimeal reinforces this idea, as small groups of them can wreak havoc amongst our lines from positions of relative safety, as well as provide a steady supply and undead fodder to weaken us."

"So those mages have to go." Chrom his eyes darted to mine. "Right?"

I smiled, feeling no comfort in the uncomfortable shifting amongst the assembled. "Yes. We when fall back, the elimination of Grimeal and other magic users will be the primary task of the Shepherds. The Pegasus knights will assist them as they can." I suspected that assistance would be relatively limited, but the option existed. "Should the inner wall be breached, Morgan," I nodded to the purple haired girl, "and I will be responsible for defending that point until it can be reinforced." While committing both our most powerful mages would be risky, leaving such matters to chance was even more.

For a moment, I swore I saw fangs in the girl's smile. "We should be able to defeat anything some two bit mages cook up." Her own wrist flicked, bits of fire dancing from it, a casual display of magic to reinforce her point. I felt a flash of envy and stamped down upon it.

"Gods willing, we will not need to." I took up again, holding everyone's gaze for several seconds. "This entire plan hinges upon losing the outermost wall on our own terms. Such a thing is inevitable, and it will be vital we control it. We will be stationing our most veteran squads on the outer wall in an attempt to prevent the initial engagement from turning into a rout." Sweeping my gaze over the assembled parties I took a deep breath. "Once the wall in lost we will start reaching into our proverbial bag of tricks by…" I rolled out a second map, this one only of the city itself, and covered in detailed markings. Running a hand over the outer wall I began to lay out the details.

 _-_ _ **FE:DUL-**_

With further planning being a fool's errand, I cornered Morgan hoping the girl could explain just what part of _Thoron_ I seemed to miss. Something about the question prompted a great deal of amusement, before she agreed and we retired to one of the disused courtyards. Halfway into her explanation we were interrupted by shouting.

"Emm, this is insane!" Chrom's voice echoed out into the courtyard stopping Morgan mid-word, small bits of lightning dancing over her fingertips. "You cannot be serious!" I assumed Emmeryn's replied filled the silence, the Exalt seeing no reason to shout. A moment later, she stepped into the courtyard tailed by her brother, evidently unhappy, based on his fierce scowl and stiff posture. "Robin, talk sense into her!"

Appraising the Exalt, I did my best to avoid reacting to her abrupt change in attire. Compact robes, lined with leather if the stitching were any indication replaced her more traditional flowing robes, with multiple hoops at the belt for tomes, and a smaller holster for a staff. Combat robes, something I didn't know the Exalt owned. Or, to be more accurate, I didn't know she knew where to find them. "I wasn't aware you were versed in combat magic, My Lady." Her lips drew thin, a hard expression settling onto her face. Determination, and something else I didn't want to place.

"I wish I did not, but I refuse to stand idle while my people bleed and die." Emmeryn possessed magic. The degree of presence she projected made sure anyone knew that. However, the casual aura of a magic user and the solid unyielding aura of a battlemage stood worlds apart and pressing against the edge of my senses, the Exalt radiated the same surety of Miriel or I might before going into battle. "I have failed them far too many times and I refuse to do so again. I will defend my people Lady Robin."

"Emm, be reasonable!" Chrom cut in before I could fully form a reply.

She rounded on her brother shoulders set, expression hewn from stone. "I am being reasonable Chrom. For years I sat and watched Gangrel slowly pick my people apart. Reason and goodwill have failed; despite being given every chance to succeed. The Mad King chose war, and loathe as I am to shed blood, I will do everything in my power to defend those who cannot defend themselves!" Her fists clenched, fury radiating palpably.

Morgan's laughed, shattering the rising tension of the argument. "You remind me of someone, Your Grace, who once did a very brave and stupid thing and beforehand gave that speech all but word for word. And as I told them, no one will think less of you for not fighting. In your case, everyone knows you abhor violence, a quality that has earned you a near unwavering loyalty and dedication that can be seen outside this castle right now." Hand rising to forestall Emmeryn's reply, Morgan's tone softened a great deal, losing some of the hardness the girl carried. "I have served Valmese nobility my entire life and seem far too many petty conflicts devolve into devastating wars. None of those lords could inspire their people to rally behind them as you do. Not with coin, not with martial force, not with torture, or bribery. Never did the threat of retribution from myself and my companions convince the common people to rise up and fight as a threat against your life has."

"What kind of ruler am I if I ask them to lay down their lives and so not stand beside them and do the same?" Emmeryn shot back as Morgan drew a breath. "Lady Robin, my brother, and you, will be fighting, in my name. How could I in good conscience ask you to put your lives on the line in such a way?"

"Because you aren't asking them too." Cutting each other off ran in the conversation it seemed. "Those soldiers out there know what they are getting into. You didn't ask them to lay down their lives. They damn well volunteered, most of them before we even asked."

"Please Emm, see some sense." Never before had I seen Chrom so distraught. "We can't lose you fighting out there." I shoved away the question of who 'we' was, taking a second to think.

"Perhaps a compromise." In practical terms, Emmeryn outranked me, and nothing I could do would stop her fighting if she wished to do so. "Perhaps you could assist the healers? Even with every able bodied cleric and monk, we are still short of those able to use a staff." Chrom immediately nodded.

Emmeryn seemed to weigh the suggestion for a time, before nodding. "That is acceptable." I would need to adjust a few small things in the later stages of the plan, but nothing drastic. "Thank you Lady Robin." With that, she swept back into the castle, turning down the hall that lead to one of three makeshift armories, created after the main castle armor became all but overrun with people.

"Damnit Robin." Chrom deflated on the spot, a heavy weight falling over his shoulders.

"I'll move Philia's squad to that area, and rearrange the reserve troops somewhat." A less than ideal solution, but I already planned to keep at least a contingent with the healers on the off chance someone on the opposing side knew the massive tactical advantage a well-used Warp staff represented. "If someone wants to get to your sister Chrom, they're going to have to go through me, everything I can throw a them, on top of the entire army. She's far from unprotected." Although mollified, as the Prince left, I couldn't help but think he sulked.

As Chrom left Morgan chuckled softly. "Well handled Lady Robin." I fixed the girl with my most acerbic glare, finding no humor in what transpired. "Sibling disputes are never pleasant, so resolving one without animosity can be an achievement." Despite my best efforts some of my curiosity must have shown through. "Cynthia has an older sister. They rarely fight, but their disagreements tend to be legendary." Her hand crept up to her necklace. "I often resolved them, so I'm quite familiar with the possible results." Wistfulness drifted into Morgan's tone for the first time, although for what I couldn't say.

"I see." I wasn't sure I really did, although that didn't matter overly much.

"Enough of my problems however." She waved a hand. "As I was saying, I think the problem you are having is here." Runes flared up about her arm, and I forced my thoughts only on the inner works one of the more complicated pieces of magic in existence, and away from the awe at how someone obviously younger than me could wield them so adroitly.

 _ **-FE: DUL-**_

"Why have you assembled all of us here Robin?" Miriel, to my surprise, arrived first. Bags hung under her eyes, and I felt a pang of guilt; I was asking everyone to work themselves to the bone, but the magical portion of the populace more than most. Establishing magical defenses for a location took time and effort, and we lacked for time, meaning everyone who could evoke the smallest degree of magical energy, and I didn't need elsewhere for other tasks was assigned to ward-crafting along both the inner and outer walls.

"If possible, I'd rather explain this one time." Rather, I only wanted to get yelled at once. Miriel nodded, settling into a nearby chair, eyelids drooping, while the rest of the Shepherds trickled in. A few inquired as to the purpose of the meeting, but most of them seemed content to wait, grouping around the room and speaking in low voices as they waited.

Chrom, haggard and dirty stumbled in last, slumping against the wall next to the Exalt herself. A glance at Cordelia revealed even she didn't know how Emmeryn heard of this, but I couldn't say I would object. Every little bit of protection helped. I caught a surreptitious flare of magic as Emmeryn placed a hand on her brother's shoulder. A bit of color returning to his cheeks, the Prince arched an eyebrow in my direction. "Robin?"

I took a deep breath. "During the strategy meeting this morning, I outlined the majority of my plans to hold off the Plegian army, noting at that time that the greatest threat to us would be enemy mages. At the time, I stated this task would be left to the Shepherds, although I left the specific details vague." Everyone's attention fixed upon me now, and I wanted to squirm. "What I am asking all of you to do is perhaps the most dangerous, yet important task at hand. So long as we have the means, a small group of the clergy will be dedicated to utilizing staves to teleport you, as a group, into the occupied portion of the city, allowing you to strike at a specific target, before withdrawing you via Rescue staves."

"You talk as if you won't be joining us." Maribelle favored me a harsh scowl, arms crossing, no doubt displeased that I, the person inventing the plan would be uninvolved.

"More often than not, you are correct, I will not be." Raising a hand to forestall their concerns, I kept going. If I got stopped now, I'd never finish. "Magic is the equalizer in this battle. An army of a million without a mage to their name will fall to a force smaller than we have here with a few powerful spell casters. For that reason, nearly every spell caster will be kept behind the walls, and well out of danger. The only exceptions to that are Miriel, Ricken, Lissa, Maribelle, Cordelia and Sumia."

"Why shall you remain behind the walls? Surely removing you will compromise the effective of us as a unit?" Virion steepled his fingers. Several nods showed a general agreement.

I tipped my head. "You are not wrong, although I have no intention of sending all of you into a pitched battle. Warp on top of the enemy, eliminate that group, and Rescue back to safety. If you are dropped into a battle, a mistake has been made by me, or someone else, and we need to get you out. Although conventional wisdom might suggest that we, as the defenders, hold a considerable advantage over the Plegian army the presence of Grimeal renders that idea moot. Your job will be to eliminate them, and very little else."

"You're sending us to deal with those freaks?" I couldn't help but think Sully's smirk looked a little to bloodthirsty.

"I am. I need people I trust, and well…" Shrugging, I let the rest go unsaid, before marshalling what flagging courage I had. "Obviously, no plan survives contact with the enemy, and despite my best efforts, you are likely to be engaged in a protracted battle with enemies we know very little about. In the absence of myself, and to prevent stretching our already exhausted mages further, I want to apply the wards that line my cloak to all of your armor." I braced myself as the room processed that declaration.

To my surprise, the reaction turned out to be rather muted. Confusion largely, although understanding of what I suggested formed on a few faces. "A moment." Miriel, perhaps unsurprisingly, put things together first. "The runes and protections inscribed in your cloak are of Grimeal origin. How can we be certain they will protect us against their creator's magic?"

"Didn't those ones you got not work against that Validar, anyways?" Sully again.

"Any magical defense can be overwhelmed by applying enough power. A principle my duel with Validar illustrated nicely, as did his defeat. The only difference between my cloak, and the wards you will create for yourself prior to the battle tomorrow, or that Lissa might conjure via staves, is that the runes in my cloak let the defenses remain in a more permanent state. They will protect just as well against Grimeal as any other threat, so long as the caster of the spell is stronger than whatever is striking them."

"She is correct." Half the room spun, weapons halfway drawn when Laurent spoke. "You are under no threat from the magic that Lady Robin proposes. It will increase your chances of survival in the coming battle." I caught his eyes, searching for the reasoning behind his words, and finding none. Unlike Morgan, whose expression told little of value, Laurent just…didn't. "Morgan suggested that you do this, in fact."

"She did?" Before I caught myself the words slipped out.

Laurent's lips thinned, annoyance if I had to guess. "Yes." No further words were forthcoming. While it didn't surprise me, I had to admit that it was annoying. I would have preferred a more concrete answer than what I got.

"I wouldn't suggest this I didn't think it would help protect you." Fourteen pairs of eyes returned my sweeping gaze. "This isn't a battle like we've faced before. Before, two people with enough power could protect the entirety of the Shepherds. Circumstances prevent me from being with you personally, but I intend to do all I can to ensure you come back alive." I held the eyes of every single person for at least a few seconds. "You're out best chance of winning this battle. And I wouldn't forgive myself it we came out of it and were holding funerals for any of you."

Some eyes never quite lost their suspicious edge, but as the moments ticked on, they dipped their heads in agreement. Chrom, nodded, once. "Let's get this done then."

* * *

 **AN: And... that's a wrap. A few final character moments before things go boom. We're over the planning and scheming hurdle, just the execution to go. Oh, and a character gets a bit a different take on them. I'll explain my weird abrupt Emmeryn head-cannon when it becomes relevant, it's something I think fits this story very well. That's a tease of things for later though.**

 **While hardly the most imaginative use of Warp and Rescue staffs, much like my complaint about horses inside (which I have since learned is fixed in Tharcia, because of course it's the game I'm 2nd least likely to play), I'd like to think this offers some suggestion of the tactical options they present. Obviously, a precious resource, but they present a major advantage if you use them right. Suddenly deploying a cavalry charge on the flanks of the enemy formation for example. Can't do that here, being cooped up in a city. Maybe ideas for later on. Either way, expect more of those sorts of tricks.**

 **Fun, if useless fact. There are 399 sentences in this chapter and 357 commas.**

 **Once again next chapter is in a week, (and already about 30% edited due to a minor goof on my part, 23 comes before 24 kids) so I shall see you all then for Bad Things Happen To People Who Don't Deserve It.**

 **As always, reviews, questions, and comments are appreciated.**


	26. Chapter Twenty-Four: First Blood

**Chapter 24: First Blood**

 **Light in Shadow: Arielle**

Something shifted. In the back of my consciousness, where I would forever be tied to Grima, there was joy. Wild, surging joy, of a sort I knew intimately; it having preceded dozens of slaughters in the future. Hot loathing flared in my gut. Half a world away, one of the pivotal battles of the Mad Kings war would play out, beyond my help or ability to influence. The Battle of Ylisse, the first one, represented the first thing I truly wanted to change. My intent, of course, meant little now, and so, instead of able to weaken the Plegian army as it advanced, I sat impotent with no one to blame but myself.

Sunrise revealed a pristine sky. Either sleep or cold summoned Lucina hours before, leaving me to watch the sunrise alone. Cold which previously nipped at my fingers now sank fangs deep into my bones, worming down my limbs, leaving even the smallest of movements painful. Not a state unusual to me, cold permeated the world after Grima ascent, and this would not be the first or last time I stood for hours in it.

"I'm surprised you are still out here." Absorbed in my thoughts, I didn't hear, or sense the manakete approach. "Even if your magic can protect you against the cold, I can't imagine standing in the same place for hours to be comfortable?" An inane question. Of course, Nah bore some relation, no matter how indirect, to Tiki, meaning that question carried some hidden meaning.

"This is hardly the longest time I have stood in a single place. Hours start to lose meaning after a few centuries." I never meant it as a piece of advice from one nigh immortal being to another, although it sounded as such. "I find what is more important is what one choses to think about when they are standing." Of course, my thoughts often wandered into dark places, dredging up old memories and leaving the prospect of disturbing my contemplation a volatile one.

"I see." Despite being several degrees separate from the direct Blood of Naga herself, Nah radiated Divinity, something antithetical to my own blood and powers, notwithstanding the Falchion at my hip. She came to a halt beside me, all but gliding over the snow, boots not even breaking the surface of the snow. I resisted the urge to fidget or move away.

"Grimeal are joining the attack on Ylissetol." I could guess where the conversation might lead, and I saw no reason to dance in the process of getting there. "Gangrel's desire for the Fire Emblem will only be sated in blood and death, which he shall have with Grima's aid." Wind began to rise, wrapping my cloak tighter. "Thousands upon thousands are going to die, in fervent defense of their Exalt, not understanding they are playing right into the hands of the very monster they seek to deny." Muscles screamed in pain when I forced my frozen fingers to ball into fists. "Bastard God is enjoying this."

For a time, Nah only hummed. "You are not used to making mistakes, are you?" As the wind died down she spoke, attention shifting fully to me.

"Mistakes are not something I have the luxury of making." My mistakes tended to have world ending results. Being possessed by Grima, for instance. "As time passed, my mistakes killed people…lives that could not be wasted."

"You have not, or the Lady of Grima has not?" Irritating little dragon. Despite my best efforts, I growled, prompting her to laugh, a demure sound, perfectly in keeping with everything I knew about her.

"Both." Somewhere a wolf howled. "I am the Lady of Grima, and the Lady of Grima is me. Irrespective of what name I bear, that title shall haunt me until my dying breath; Grima hangs above my head, a sword that may fall at any moment, just as Naga does above you, or Lucina." Of course, Grima carried greater consequences. "His rebirth, rise to power, and, at some point in the none too distant future, death…every moment of my life revolves around him in some way or another." My throat burned as coughs ripped through my chest. Taking the small amount magic, I could control into my upraised palm, I stared down at the tiny purple flame that appeared, twisting in the winds. "This is me, Nah. Arielle, Lady of Grima."

"Purple flames." Seeming to both ignore my point, and find something else worth noticing, Nah arched an eyebrow. "Morgan never spoke of purple magical fire."

While having no relation to the previous conversation, it did bear considering when she pointed it out. "She wouldn't have. Naga and Grima are supposed to be the only beings capable of manifesting magical fire of odd colors. Even Valflame, a tome rumored to have connections to the Divine is orange-red." Leaping upward, the flame in my palm deepened in color, now matching the deep purple of my hair. "This is the first I've seen of…this." In the past, when possessed, or when utilizing a great deal of Grima's magic, I could manifest black fire, but I attributed that to Fell Magic, leaving this new purple fire a bit of a mystery.

"Mm." Although I had limited experience in dealing with manaketes, I got the distinct impression something amused the tiny girl. "Lucina mentioned that your cloak drips purple fire when your especially emotional." My cloak dripped fire? While I knew at least half a dozen ways to produce such an effect, I never used them. Tools for intimidation lacked any value when I go drop the average person to their knees with my mere presence. "She described it as 'rather intimidating'." Nah stopped, another soft laugh passing her lips, although she did not elaborate on what amused her.

"I imagine most of my intimidation comes from a suffocating magical presence and demonstrable magical power." Although perhaps being able to catch myself on fire at a whim could be amusing. Humans feared fire, and someone who could turn into a walking torch of strange colored fire would inspire awe and fear.

"We've all felt Morgan get mad. Or me." The inclusive of herself in that sentence came as a direct afterthought. "We fought against Grima and his armies. Even Kjelle can stand under the suffocating weight of the Fell Dragon's aura. Those things alone are not something we will find directly intimidating."

"Perhaps." I flipped my wrist, extinguishing the flame, before turning my head just enough to stare at the manakete. "What is your point Nah." She offered me a half smile, and I stamped down on my annoyance, already knowing the hypocrisy being thrown back in my face. If nothing else, I could wait until the girl said her piece, considering the pain and suffering I caused.

"Why?" Nothing in her tone betrayed the intent behind the question.

Grima hesitated to target Nah when possessing me, leaving me little to suggest what Nah referred to. Attempted murder would be unlikely, and my best guess might have involved Nowi, if she hadn't been taken out of the picture almost too soon for Nah to likely remember. "I'm afraid that you'll have to provide me a bit more specificity than that."

Her lips thinned, expression growing cold. "You have a daughter."

My heart skipped. The existence of my daughter should, would, have been a secret. Sumia and I didn't always see eye to eye, and she probably disagreed with my choice, but Chrom's wife wasn't a stupid woman. She could understand the reasoning for my request, and I trusted her to do what was best. While I knew it would be possible for someone else to come to the correct conclusion, I doubted anyone but Lucina, Cynthia and my daughter knew enough pieces to fill in the gaps. Lucina never asked, suggesting they never did.

"You want to know why she ended up with Sumia." While a guess, I considered it a fair question, or at least the point where someone who knew would start.

"You abandoned her." For the first time, true accusation bled into Nah's words.

That, to me, was a matter of perspective. "I had little choice. Growing up amongst the Grimeal is a hell I would wish upon no one, much less my own child. Grima controlled me with an iron grip then, and I was…weak. Even if I wanted to defend a child, I could not." My nails bit deep into my palms. "My moments of lucidity were few and far between…my defiance nonexistent." Nah continued to stare, her eyes blank, her lips pulled taut. "One of the few times I defied his will…and I suffered for that. I left her my cloak, from when I wandered the world. Sumia would have recognized it, and her worst would pale in comparison to what the Grimeal might do."

"If you defied him to leave Morgan in Ylisse, then you must have regained some measure of free will." Dragonstone responding to her roiling emotions, magic poured off Nah in waves. "Why not stay, and fight?"

"And been possessed again." Old regrets, ones I spent decade working past welled up on my gut. "Seven hundred years of second guessing myself, searching for something, anything came up empty. There are no words to convey the feeling of helplessness that comes with Grima controlling you, lurking in your head, every moment, every thought. Using your body, your name, to commit atrocity after atrocity, he would dangle freedom before me, and when I grabbed for it, yank it away." I took a breath, dragging my rising voice down again. "Grima controlled me thusly for six long years. During the fifth year, Morgan was born, not long after my will broke. I couldn't fight back, or defeat Grima, even if I wanted too." All at once the pressure winked out. "When I left Morgan in Ylisse, slightly over a year later, it was the first act I took with the limited freedom Grima taunted me with. Leaving my child, even if I so much as have the right to claim as such...it was the only choice." Another long pause, as I tried to gather my roiling thoughts. "Even that little I did for her…I paid in blood." Phantom pains lanced down my shoulders, and I forced my fists to unclench. "Grima tormented prisoners, and I believe you saw the results." She nodded. "Those tortures represented a small fraction of the horrors I suffered for leaving Morgan. One of Grima's 'gifts' I consider worthwhile, my ability to heal failed me." This time, the phantom pains, were all encompassing. "Months later, my injuries remained unhealed, as all the while Grima waged his war, tormented his new victims, uncaring for the half-broken state of his vessel."

To Nah's credit she did not flinch or back away. A few tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, a pity I didn't care for.

"Do you want to know what would have happened if I stayed?" I could imagine the tiny sparks of black energy floating over my fingertips, and hear the screams from behind my ears, imagined, but altogether real. "Possession. In the middle of Ylisse. If you believe the Fall of Ylisse was a disaster, that instant would have been a thousand times worse. No Risen. No Grimeal. No soldiers. No battle. Corpses stacked to the rooftops. Men falling upon their own swords. Blood would choke the streets, and viscera might well have polished the cobblestones." Deflating, I managed a weak, self-pitying chuckle. "All of that, Nah, to serve as a reminder to me, one insignificant woman, what happens to traitors. He wouldn't have taken the city, simply butchered everyone in it, and left a smoldering ruin for me to remember.

Fear washed over the girl's face, the gravitas of my words sinking in slowly. "I…" Words failed her. "Morgan always believed in you." Turning away at last, Nah sighed, long and heavy. "Insisted you weren't a willing vessel. She always clung to the belief you could be saved…that when the time came, the two of you would fight Grima side by side." Nah paused. "Or, that she would be the one to kill you, if you couldn't be.

Pride, unwarranted as it might have been filled me. "Perhaps." Many crimes stood in the way of that. "I take some comfort in knowing that is not a boast. Should it have come to that, Morgan could have followed through with that. If she can match me in open combat, there is little that she cannot defend herself against." I desperately wanted this conversation to be over. Old memories, pains and regrets threatened to overwhelm me. "Perhaps my daughter can make something of herself, outside of the whims of Gods."

My magic rose up, and even as fire filled my limbs, it responded to my subconscious will. Everything seared white. I tasted blood, and I was gone.

 ** _-FE:DUL-_**

 **Tactician of Ylisse: Robin**

Only Frederick and Chrom were in the room when Cynthia appeared, pushing the last reports of the enemy advance into my hands. When this battled end, I made a note to investigate just how that girl could get so close when all others died. I couldn't afford to be uninformed about the Plegian advance, and everyone who saw her fly insisted she could make a mockery of Plegian Wyvern riders, so questions had to wait. Taking the paper, I only needed a glance to confirm my suspicions. "They'll arrive at nightfall."

Frederick spat a particularly interesting curse. "While I agree with your decision, it irks me to let them run wild across the countryside like this." The knight mused, running a hand over the map a final time. I didn't disagree, but the cost in lives to harass them would be too steep. Nor would the eventual defense of the city. "Letting them attack at dusk will only prove more troublesome for us."

The Plegian attack at dusk troubled me least. There were ways I could mitigate the damage involved, and most were already in place. "I don't enjoy the idea any more than you do Frederick, but we aren't left with many alternatives. Start moving everyone into position. I would rather be over prepared for what comes." I rolled the map up, summoning what measure of calm I still possessed. "I will be on the walls shortly."

With that, we scattered, Frederick returning to the city to oversee the final preparations, Chrom to gather the Shepherds, leaving me to find the Exalt, Morgan and her group. Fortunately, Morgan and the Exalt were engaged in a debate of some variety, sparing me the effort of finding them both. Whatever the topic involved, both went silent as I drew near.

"Lady Emmeryn. Morgan. Gangrel's army is expected to arrive at nightfall." The Exalt's eyes darkened, head dipping in a solemn nod. "Final preparations are ongoing as we speak."

"We will join you on the wall." Morgan flickered a glare into the Exalts back, before her expression faded into blankness. "I will withdraw before the battle, to ease my brother's worries." While none of us liked that option, I didn't see any value in arguing now.

"Ease my own worries, My Lady." Trying to defend Emmeryn once open battle joined would prove disastrous. Emmeryn offered a solemn nod.

Our walk to the walls otherwise lingered in silence. As Emmeryn passed, soldiers straightened, eyes tracking the Exalt for just a moment, before returning to their work. If my goal had been to intimidate, no doubt, the Ylissean Exalt flanked by a pair of women clad in the cloak used to denote the Grimeal would have been fantastic. At the wall, Emmeryn moved off to speak with Chrom, leaving Morgan and I alone for a few moments.

"She is either brave, or a fool." The younger girl shook her head in bemusement. "And I am inclined to conclude she is both."

I suspected the subject of Morgan and Emmeryn's debate from the moment I saw it, but Morgan's words confirmed it. "You attempted to dissuade her from participating in the battle at all."

Morgan's lips curled into a half smile. "Not in so many words. I have dealt with nobility long enough to understand that I cannot often change minds, but I can at least inspire some degree of caution in them." And, all at once her eyes dimmed, the vibrant green fading away. "I know I have informed you in the past, Lady Robin, but for your Exalts life, it bears repeating. My sword is yours." Turning a questioning gaze on the girl, I almost recoiled from her intensity. "If it is within mine or my companions power, this city will not fall, Lady Robin." For a moment, magic flared, haloing Morgan in purple.

"Hopefully, things do not come to that." We both knew the reality of our situation, runes flaring on Morgan's cloak, a counterpoint to the soft orange glow already emanating from my own. "Where are your compatriots?" Cynthia had delivered a report before vanishing into thin air, and I didn't have time to worry about the others.

Morgan shook her head, sharp and violent. "Severa and Cynthia are arguing, Laurent will be meditating, and I am unsure where one might find Yarne." Her right hand flexed, as though to stretch her glove, before she brought it to rest on her sword. "The happy couple will reappear in a few hours, Laurent won't show up until you want him, and Yarne will be about. Give orders, and he will follow." While all of that sounded like something I couldn't rely upon, the five proved valuable allies thus far, and I could find no reason not to trust Morgan's word.

"I see." We fell silent, and were joined a few minutes later by Chrom.

"We'll be ready." Pride and fear a like colored his tone. "At least, ready as we will ever be." Morgan chuckled, her half smile returning in full force.

"I cannot say where you found Lady Robin, Prince Chrom, but she had proven more capable than I ever imagined." I got the feeling that, despite the relative monotone and enigmatic delivery, Morgan considered those words a high compliment. "Few groups can inspire such loyalty as you and she have."

"We haven't done that much." Chrom tried to protest, sparing me the effort to do so. Morgan's smile only deepened, at last reaching all the way to her eyes. "Only-"

"Oh stuff it!" Chrom whipped about, and I followed suit in a somewhat more sedate manner. Severa and Cynthia hand in hand, stood behind us, the former having spoken, her eyes narrowed on Chrom. "Don't even start with that crap. You're sickeningly good at getting people to follow you, and die for you." I swore I heard bitterness, and made a note to ask Morgan if I got a moment.

"You're a Hero!" Cynthia chirped, her normal cheerful grin in place. "You got Morgan to think helping you is a good idea, and Morgan's a total grump." One could have been mistaken for thinking the blue-haired Pegasus rider was teasing, but I could see the truth in the words.

"I resent the implication." Morgan crossed her arms, regarding her companions with a combination of amusement and what I could only call exasperation.

"You wanted to just leave." Severa cut in, lips curling into a smirk, as if she won some argument or another. "Morgan, if it isn't one of us, you don't give a damn what happens to anybody. We had to drag your sorry ass in here, you just wanted to leave the whole damn city alone." Severa waved a hand. "You weren't even on board with helping this lot, and you know it." Why were they having this conversation now, of all times?

"I assume you are trying to find a way to say you told me so, and win the running bet that Inigo started when we were children." Morgan's hands folded behind her, swallowed by her cloak, obviously nonchalant in the face of a several snickers.

Severa snorted, releasing Cynthia's hand to cross her own arms. "As if. He's not here, so it wouldn't count anyways, since I've only got one witness, and everyone would think I bribed her."

"Well, you have attempted to bribe Cynthia into helping you win said bet in the past." A hint of a smile flickered across Morgan's face. "Rather…loudly bribed." Someone in the crowd choked on their spit. "So, I would say his distrust is well founded."

"Right…" Drawing the word out, Severa leaned into Cynthia's shoulder a bit, eyes flitting to me. "I'm guessing you have a plan?"

"I do." Despite my best efforts, I squirmed under her glare. Severa carried herself differently than the others, and her presence wore greater gravitas than any except Morgan.

"Hmph." Her eyes flickered to Morgan again. "Must be one hell of a plan then. Never thought Morgan would agree to listen to somebody else."

"Sevy, be nice!" Cynthia huffed. "Morgan isn't that bad!"

"All three of us are." All three of them? I got the distinct impression that she wasn't referring to the three standing before me, although who the other two in that scenario were, I couldn't guess. Morgan seemed to be referring to Cynthia and herself, leaving only the third as a mystery

"Maybe…." Cynthia huffed. "Still, your way worse than me or Lucy." Lucy? It sounded like a nickname, although I couldn't say for certain. Any hint as to what experiences they might have, and their history I would take.

"Mhm." Morgan pulled her hands free of her cloak. "I doubt either of you would rescind authority to anyone besides me." Cynthia just shrugged. "I will be with Lady Robin. Laurent will be assisting the mage corps along the wall as needed. You two will be with the Shepherds, or with me." Her eyes flickered to me, a silent request for confirmation.

"As Morgan says." I considered what else to say for a few seconds. "I admit I will be relying on the five of you as much as the Shepherds, if not more." Chrom shot me a look, and I picked the question out without difficulty. "They have as much experience in battle as any two Shepherds combined Chrom. I'd be foolish not to lean on them if I can."

"I apologize." I jumped. Chrom and Morgan joined me atop the walls, sometime later, where I tried to guess the positions the Plegian army might attack. Obviously the gates represented an easy target, but I expected a diverting attack elsewhere as well. However, that could wait until Morgan finished.

"What for?" Chrom's cape rustled, probably with him scratching his head. Morgan's chuckle made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. Even if her companions suggested her presence in the city to be involuntary, and Morgan herself could destroy anyone in said city with a look, nothing about the girl could be outwardly called unsettling until that moment. Something cold lingered in that sound, different tack from her attitude a short time ago.

"For that scene. Severa is correct, I did not wish to be here, and would have preferred to continue traveling, putting as many miles between this city and us as possible before Gangrel arrived." She sighed, all at once sounding far older than her appearance suggested. "All of them follow me because I keep them alive, but I will never be their moral compass."

"Why not?" Obviously something about that didn't sit well with Chrom, based both on his tone, and the rushed nature of the question.

For a few moments the sound of clattering armor and shouting soldiers filled the air. "Valm is not…a kind place. Our employer found themselves forced to make many unsavory choices, in an effort to protect themselves, and their people. I…I shouldered those choices, so my friends did not have to." A melancholy note entered her tone. "As a result, I am inured to violence and death…being able to eradicate armies, cities with a few choice words and a wave of the hand offered a terrifying deterrent, and a slew of scar." That someone could use a teenager in such a manner bordered on Gangrel's level barbarity. "I will not lie and say I am proud of everything I have done, but it was… necessary." Morgan slumped over the battlements, hair falling over her left shoulder, obscuring my view of her face. "Better me than my sisters."

"Your sisters?" Chrom and I traded a look. Were they the 'others' that got mentioned? That would confirm my suspicion that Cynthia was one of said sisters.

Her laugh, a true laugh, instead of the ones I'd heard before carried a certain infectious quality to it, although nothing about the situation seemed humorous. "They aren't truly my sisters. Their Mother took me in after mine disappeared, although we are not related by blood, we see other as such."

"So you did what you did to protect them?" Chrom's question hung in the air for a few minutes. In the distance, birds kicked up by the advancing Plegian army circled, visible by virtue of massed numbers.

A whisper, cutting across the tumult with ease. "In any sensible kingdom, I, or our employer, would have been put to death. However, such laws no longer exist in Valm. Strength is the only currency that matters. Walhart saw to that."

Chrom slammed a hand into Falchion. "Sounds like a tyrant of the worst sort."

"Whatever you might believe, the man is worse." I glanced over at her, trying not to shudder at the certainty in her eyes, once again visible. "He is more monster than man. All of us together could hold him off, but only just. All but my strongest spells simply rolled off his shoulders as though I never cast them. We had no choice but to flee." A long sigh. "I did not mean ill will in advising the others to avoid stopping here. The rest of our companion's disappearance worries me. I trust their skills but…"

"You don't have to apologize for worrying about your friends." I suspect Chrom considered putting a hand on her shoulder, before choosing better of it. "We've done more than our share of rather ill-advised things for the same ends."

"And put our trust in strangers, despite how wisdom might suggest doing so is." I joined the conversation at last, my thoughts drifting to Gri, and even myself.

"Mmm." She didn't agree, that much was obvious. "Survival first." At least she believed we would survive and hearing the verbal assertion settled a few of my nerves. While admitting she outclassed me in every way rankled, it also provided some insurance that should everything go wrong, Morgan could tip the flow of battle in an instant.

- ** _FE:DUL-_**

I did not allow myself to sleep during those hours of waiting. Every now and again, a soldier would give a report, or someone would come running past with last minute instructions, but otherwise the wall was calm. Chrom had gone down to ready those who would be holding the gates, leaving me with Morgan, who by some unspoken agreement shared my desire for silence. After a time, Severa joined us, occasionally trading whispered words with Morgan, after the third time, I suspected an argument to be going on.

"They're coming." Morgan broke the silence, stepping forwards to glare down into the darkness. Despite my best effort, all I could see was inky blackness beyond the reach of lanterns on the walls, so I pushed a small degree of magic into my eyes, allowing the world to shift turning grey, with the exception of a sudden impenetrable wall of inky blackness outside the city, and growing closer. Fell Magic.

I gestured to the nearest soldier, stationed close enough to see the signal but far enough to not hear anything I said. Soldiers shifted, grips tightening on their weapons, doing their best to remain quiet. Our opening moves required total surprise to be on our side. No doubt, the Plegians expected resistance, but we could still surprise them with the manifestation of it. Beside me, Morgan began to gather her magic, and I snuffed my Mage Sight away, before being blinded by the girl beside me.

"Half a mile." Static gathered in the air as Morgan uncrossed her arms. Farther down the walls, archers knelt behind the parapets, arrows knocked and ready. I began to chant under my breath, building the spell in a manner far more deliberate than normal. "Quarter." Morgan rumbled. I passed another signal down the wall. "On your command Lady Robin."

Extending my arm, I closed my eyes, easily calling up the image of diffuse magic flaring across the fields. " _Elthunder_." Even with my eyes closed, stars exploded over my vision at the sudden influx of light. Beside me, Morgan gave a strangled cry, a wash of magic flooding the field, a peal signaling the success of her spell. Opening my eyes, the Plegian army was revealed, the initial ranks reeling from the sudden flash. Before any could recover their wits, arrows rained upon the as the first group of archers began the battle. Morgan gave a second cry, a second stronger pulse of magic flying outwards before sinking to one knee.

Fire erupted from the first rank, as my second lightning bolt skittered off a hastily constructed ward. Twirling my fingers, I joined the ranks of mages throwing dozens of shields and counter-spells. Rising from her knee, Morgan spat a curse, her necklace throwing white light, easily piercing the gloom settling over the city. With a second muffled growl, she joined the magical duel, countering or overwhelming over two dozen spells flying in our general direction within seconds.

Where my magic snuffed out enemy spells, Morgan's spells, almost exclusively spears of brilliant white flame, conjured in a language I never learned, served to swallow opposing magic, carrying onwards into the ranks below, offering brief flashes of terrified faces, and bloodthirsty howls. Arrows clattered into the stones, Plegian archers attempting to stop the tide of arrows falling into their ranks. A volley of javelin's answered them.

" _Arcwind_!" Both sides tried the same tactic, magic scattering arrows in flight, before colliding and releasing uncontrolled gusts of wind in every direction. Soldiers on the ground were tossed about, and a few stray winds threw someone from the walls. By now, the Plegian army could be seen nearing the base of the walls under the cover of arrows and magic alike. From somewhere in the blackness, globes of inky black flew, met by Morgan's own spells, once again throwing ghastly illumination over the army below.

Wyverns dove at the walls, bowling soldiers clean off, as their riders laid about them with axes, splitting flesh and armor alike. Nearby I heard bone crunch, and I spun, magic snapping off my fingers far too late to save the archer now crushed. The ring of blades behind me signaled a new duel, and I whirled hands raise for a spell, only for Severa to cleave open the head of a new wyvern.

Two more Wyverns crashed into the walls below, felled by arrows. Fire and Wind flashed into the skies above, and howls of agony preceded the deaths of yet more Wyverns. "Jerk!" Severa's blade turned yet another axe away. "Just die!" Before the owner of the axe could recover, Morgan cast, and man and lizard toppled back into the seething mass below.

Even though the distraction lasted only a few moments, the Plegian General took advantage. Concentrated magic bombarded the walls unimpeded as I surveyed the situation below. Further, I could see the flares of magic indicating the occasional spell to divert arrows away from the more vulnerable Plegian troops. Before the gates, soldiers flared back, leaving an open corridor that stretched before my ability to see. Somewhat in the inky shadows beyond the rising fury of battle, something roared, a sound caught between a defiant battle cry and a horrendous shrieking.

"No…" Severa backhanded an arrow with her armored forearm, stepping in front of Morgan and I, sword raised. "Morgan-!" Fear dripped from her words, and every soldier recoiled as the sound washed over them.

"Lady Robin. We need to abandon the wall at once." Seven more spears of white fire launched themselves into the dark, these flying farther into the enemy formation. While Morgan's expression stayed serene, the beginnings of panic could be heard in her tone setting my already racing heart alight.

"Why would-" I didn't get to finish my sentence. Ducking beneath one of those fiery spears, and a lightning bolt of my own, something charged from the shadows, right down the lane left open for it. A few unlucky soldiers dove for cover, just before the monstrosity smashed headlong into the gates. Wood splintered, and metal bent, but they held. Undeterred the creature stepped back, jaws parting to roar once again.

I had only a second to assess the thing. Bearing a vague resemblance to a dragon, albeit a dragon whose half rotted flesh fell away leaving mangled skeleton visible, the creature belched some vile smoke, before flaring it's one functional wing, and driving the gates inwards a second time. No following crash indicated they had failed yet, but I heard soldiers shouting below.

"Fall back!" Officers picked up my call. Flipping my wrist, I supplied the wind to displace another volley of arrows. Soldiers began to shift, ranks folding in towards the gates. Seeing victory, the Wyverns returned. Fang, claw and steel tore shield, flesh and armor, some less fortunate were toss from the walls screaming into the formations below. Below, the creature bellowed, and a two tone crash signaled the destruction of the gates.

" _Excalibur_!" Morgan's voice rang, clear and cold against the screams below. With a howl thousands of blades of winds erupted, streaking up into skies, meeting a second more significant wave of wyvern riders. Blood and viscera exploded, raining down on both sides of the wall, adding a whole new layer to the screaming below. Morgan's necklace flared brighter than ever, before dimming, whatever magic sustained the light snuffed out. The girl herself staggered, the sudden effort taking its obvious toll, forcing Severa to catch her.

Below, I could see Chrom and the soldiers at the gates were not faring well against the draconic monstrosity. Arrows riddled the monster's flanks, a pair of javelins lodged into the bottom of its jaw, one falling away as a chunk of flesh gave way. Swiping its tail to the side, the thing sent soldiers flying, slamming a claw into the spot Chrom occupied a mere second before. Falchion shone in his hand, carving a hefty chunk out of the creature's leg, which only seemed to anger the beast. Unholy smoke belched from its mouth, rotting away the flesh of those unlucky enough to be caught in front of the creature. Those lucky enough to survive backpedaled, as soldiers streamed down from the walls, lobbing arrows and javelins into the dragon without effect, while others braced to try and slow it down.

Spitting the invocation, I called Fire, eliciting a shriek of fury from the dragon. Just as the fresher soldiers from the wall began to dig in their heels to fight, I felt the painful nauseous tug, and a wave of shadowy daggers flew from the darkness, ripping armor and flesh alike. Dozens died screaming, killed before anyone got so much as try and defend them. Then, Plegian troops, led by a small contingent of cavalry charged through the gates.

Horses pressed too close to the dragon reared, tossing their riders into the throng that followed behind. Projectiles flew wildly from both sides, as the dragon spewed another gout of noxious vapors into the melee developing before it. Snapping off another pair of fire spells, I took a split second to locate Chrom in the midst of the chaos. Falchion blazing in his palm, he twisted and blocked, movements frantic in the heat of battle. Beside me, Severa cursed, before vaulting the last few feet, sword gleaming. I turned away, just for a moment to see of a Wyvern that dove towards the final few retreating from the walls.

"Grima damn you." Morgan's curse cut across the battlefield din easily. With every spell I cast, I could feel the strain building, the need to let myself breathe for even a moment growing greater. Every time it looked like the Ylissean forces might manage to rally that damn dragon slaughtered more, and we lost ground. I could pick Severa and Chrom, one leaving a trail of destruction, the other, holding a small knot of soldiers together. "Lady Robin, I need ten seconds." Once again, Morgan's necklace shone; some sort of magic rising to push against the nauseating magic that conjured the dragon.

"You've got about four!" I yanked my sword up just in time to parry an axe thrown at my head, resorting to a bungled Wind spell to throw the attacker back. "Elthunder!" Lightning snapped out, punching a hole in the Plegian line for an instant, just enough for a few soldiers to gather themselves. I swiped a hand at my hip as I killed a spearman with a thrust, catching the tip of a different tome. "Elfire!" Crimson flame blossomed, the detonation consuming four further men and horses. Lightning crackled down my arm as I tapped a different tome, feeling the energy surge down my arm, watching runes spiraling to life as I formed the spell.

" _BOLGALNGE_!" For the span of a blink the cobbles beneath the ruined gateway glowed brilliant red, before a pillar of crimson flame consumed the dragon, and everything in a ten-foot radius, globules of molten rock flying dozens of feet farther in all directions, filling the void with a few pained screams. Then, a body hit the stones, armor and muscle crashing down, Severa's sword buried in his chest. Twirling her blade between her fingers, the brunette stalked onto the cool stone. I made call out, when Morgan grabbed my arm, something in her gaze taking me aback. While no light shone from her necklace, Morgan radiated magical power, every confidence in her companion showing.

Plegian soldiers began to advance again, eyes darting warily between the person in front of them and the still recovering soldiers farther behind. Soot crunched as I hit the ground, dropping the final few feet, bloody sword spinning between my fingers in a pale mimicry of Severa. Fabric snapped, followed by the dull rasp of Morgan's sword being drawn. Plegian soldier's hesitated, no doubt caught between thinking their victory easily in reach, and the appearance of what they believed to be two Grimeal amongst the enemy.

"Traitors!" Sword raised high, one brave soul charged.

" _Thoron._ " Morgan waved her hand. The man died, as did three more behind him, unable to avoid the spell. My own spell claimed half a dozen further lives, breaking the fragile tension of the moment. Behind my ears, grinding laughter bubbled up, only to overwhelmed by the war-cries of two entire armies.

Magic spun through my head, spells, plans examined and discarded in record time. My sword stilled into my palm. I picked two, out of the eight abreast, and started to cast. While I couldn't see her, my senses felt Morgan, the darkness in her aura rearing its head. With a thump, Severa's blade stopped moving, burying itself in the head of the solider unlucky enough to approach her. Those moments dissolved into a rush copper and ozone, my arm aching, every muscle protesting when another axe ricocheted off to the side, owner dying with a hole where his heart had been. Brown flashed across my vision, my spells already half cast, more lighting jumping out into the din of blades. Twisting my wrist, one, step and thrust, two, incant, three four five. Parry-slash, six, wrist flick-cast, seven, eight, nine, ten, blade, eleven, twelve. Blood, burning hot, across the chest. Magic, magic filled my veins, singing, called out to the battle, marking out those who would die. Shouts of defiance, clashing weapons, drowning in the deep, gravelly laughter of the Fell Dragon

"Robin!" Two Plegian's died without knowing Chrom ever neared them. Falchion's shine dimmed, perhaps suggesting we fought regular soldiers only. I flipped my wrist, immolating a would be attacker, even as Chrom swiped a strike away from my head. "What now?"

"Fall back." I only realized my breathing came so labored then. "Start falling back." Although giving ground would be a costly endeavor, relatively tight quarters of the main pass through the city, and time to prepare meant we could hold. Stepping forwards, I engaged an axe wielder in a brief duel to cover Chrom's back. A Thoron bolt flashed across the entire battle, drawing my attention to Morgan and Severa who stood in a swath of death, yet even as I watched, Morgan was forced to pause in her spellcasting to deal with an enemy who slipped under Severa's guard.

A horn sounded in the distance, and the Plegian stream began to slow, fresh soldiers no longer stepping up to replace their comrades. Those few still living, seeming to realize their imminent demise, turned to flee, and were allowed to.

Somewhere, in the blackness, my Plegian counterpart would be contemplating their next move. While I hadn't expected the zombified dragon, we held, even dealing with far more of their wyverns than I anticipated. A ragged cheer came from the Ylissean troops, and I let my sword drop to my side, slowly regaining some measure of calm.

"Well done, Lady Robin." Lips curving into a half smile, Morgan and Severa drifted over, the other mage seeming altogether too pleased.

"We survived." But with thousands still outside the gates, I felt taking this victory as any sort of sign would be premature. "Without a plan for more of those zombie dragons, I fear it will not be for much longer."

"Man, talk about uptight. You just kicked the ass of your arch nemesis, or whatever Cynthia would say, and you're just standing here complaining." Severa exploded. "Grima himself could drop dead in front of you, and you'd just say it was 'alright' or something!"

"Perhaps you have a point." A victory, no matter how small, was still a victory. "Chrom." Obviously guessing I'd have new orders, he emerged from the ranks of soldiers. "Get us ready to fall back, and start rotating soldiers out. We won this. We'll win the rest." A soft rumble of approval came from behind me, and I turned, only to be hit with a wave of sound as once again.

* * *

 **AN: It begins!**

 **Before going into my unusual rambling bullshit, some more actually serious thoughts.**

 **1\. I probably should get off my butt and find a cover image for this thing, shouldn't I?**

 **2\. I'm giving some thought to doing the thing, both for early access to whatever fan fiction stuffs I do and one shot requests/commissions.**

 **3\. Editing that fight at the end was a right and royal pain. I still pretty much hate its but short of 're-writing that entire sodding fight again I'm not going to make it better, and I'm frankly sick of looking at it.**

 **Something Known: I meant to respond to your review earlier but this week got entirely out of hand. Your correct that most of the city is impassable by horse. There is a main thoroughfare, I th I k is the best word leading between the gates and the inner area, which safely can fit about six or seven horses across it. So cavalry aren't entirely useless, but your quite correct, in a protracted siege, eating your horses has more value. As for the pegasi...I'm gonna keep that under my hat for now. (Might have just created some more work for myself (Cordelia might get a POV bit. Her or Sumia...we'll see).**

 **That's the serious stuff I think? Inevitably I'll remember in the morning, it's still technically Saturday, and I'm working off my kindle at the moment. Speaking of, any weeird formsting errors are thr result of using said kindle and the FFN app to upload this one. I'll fix anything stupid on Monday when I've got a computer again.**

 **So... We are now 25 chapters, 120k words into turning fire emblem awakening on its head and we finally get to deal with the character who is responsible for all of this. Well, she appeared earlier this is more of her actual introduction, so I'm talking about her here.**

 **I love Awakening to bits (mostly), but it does a few things that just pissed me off. While the Time travel got played pretty fast and loose I didn't really mind until Morgan. Literally, Int Sys couldn't come up with a better explanation than 'oh, amnesia again, hurdedur'? at least with Robin there is a concrete plot related reason for said amnesia (regardless of the strength of the logic, my point is the reason exists), and it plays a roll, somewhat, in the story, and has some level of thematic underpinnings. Morgan? Feck all. So, I set out to answer the question "What if Morgan didn't have the stupid amnesia thing?"(mostly) and here we are.**

 **While my entire 'Int Sys why you do this?' Rant doesn't really fit here, most of the changes in this story trace back to my efforts to reconcile putting Morgan into the same timeline as the other kids, while keeping her parents (or at least one parent) up in the , and changing when Lucina is born. Speaking of, some ages, as I have yet to find a cannon source for everyone's ages.**

 **Lucina: 20-21**

 **Other kids: 17-19**

 **Morgan: 16**

 **Chrom: 22, ish.**

 **Robin: 21, Give or take**

 **As always major thanks to Aura for putting g up with my crap, and reminding that my stuff isn't garbage I need to redo from scratch.**

 **Reviews, Questions, concerns are all appreciated. Otherwise I'll hopefully see you next Wednesday with the next installment of (Really) Bad Things Happen To People Who Don't Deserve It.**


	27. Chapter Twenty-Five: Do Not Go Quiet

**Chapter Twenty-Five: Do No Go Quiet**

 **Tactician of Ylisse: Robin**

"Lady Robin!" Below, the final few defenders retreated along the main thoroughfare. Farther along, the ruins of barricades and other makeshift fortifications could be seen, cloaked in a dusty haze the farther down you looked. At the center of the motley group, Sully and Stahl anchored an increasingly ragged line. Father along, Frederick and Lon'qu were filling the increasing number of gaps, as attrition took an inevitable toll. While the short reprieve allowed us to conduct our retreat in a somewhat more orderly fashion, that did not change the fact we did eventually have to hold, and holding actions were expensive.

"Yes?" Dragging my attention away from the battle below, I bit down my instinctive reaction to the soldier's appearance. Bloodied, with one arm in a sling, he none the less clutched a sword tight. I didn't recognize the face, which some distant part of me decided was a small mercy.

"Everything is ready." He licked his lips, seeming askance for a moment. "Lady Lissa has also told me to tell you that-" With an agonizing scream, a Pegasus plummeted out of the sky, rider and all, smashing into the center of the battle. I turned away, as did the soldier, turning a bit green.

"Get a messenger to clerics. We begin evacuating in five minutes." A wave of magic rolled over the city, a new blast of nausea hitting me, strong enough even the regular soldiers flinched back. "Inform Morgan, the Exalt and Prince Chrom I need them here." High above, I could pick out the occasional form of a Pegasus, or the flash of magic as Cordelia and Sumia fought.

As the soldier sprinted away, the Plegian army stepped into range of bows from the walls and was greeted with a fresh hail of arrows. Taking the reprieve, the defenders, regrouped, reforming the line. Although partially hidden by dust and haze, farther down the Plegian advance, I could see wisps of black smoke starting to rise, and seconds after the next wave of arrows flew, the off key howls of wounded Risen could be heard. Arrows went wide when the first Ylissean corpses shambled forwards, soldiers falling back to allow the monstrosities to advance. Hesitation cost lives, and four more Ylissean's died before managing to regain their wits.

Two spears of light appeared from further down the inner wall, hammering into the swarming dead and Plegian soldiers alike. Where they made contact with Risen the creatures simply evaporated in a spray of mist, the magical construct carrying on until striking either true flesh or stone. From that same direction, Emmeryn appeared pale white light dancing about her fingers. Spells rolling off her fingertips Morgan followed. Stopping for a few seconds, I could see her lips move, and another lance of Divine fire cut into the Risen, followed a second later by Emmeryn. "Lady Robin." Worry laced the Exalts frown, as she let her magic fade away.

Below, soldiers started to flicker out of sight, leaving nothing but a few motes of magic in their place. "As soon as all our soldiers are safe, we proceed with the plan. Any further fighting below will only give the enemy further corpses to turn against us." While not the intended use for this plan, it would have to do. "If you could send the signal for the pegasi to disengage for now?"

"I understand." Expression hardening, Emmeryn turned to leave. "Do you have anything else for me Lady Robin?"

For a long second, I watched the battlefield, bodies piling as arrows and javelins found their mark. "No." I could only hope the Exalt couldn't see my shaking hands when I cast Wind, turning aside a few arrows from below. "Just be prepared for a very large concussion in a few moments." Emmeryn nodded, slipping down the walls. Chrom appeared in her place, taking only a second to figure out what was happening, before turning to call out orders, clearing soldiers in a wide area around us.

"Whenever you are ready." Morgan's aura flared with my words, a sudden weight on the world, not unlike when Gri or Marth appeared before Validar. Abruptly magic flared, a new tome attuned to her, in time with my fingers finding the Thoron tome at my left hip.

Morgan started to chant, the low, arcane words that I blocked out instinctively. A detached portion of my brain recognized it to be the first sign of weakness in any form the girl presented, her using a full incantation for the spell. I brushed that thought aside, bringing my left hand up, starting to form the spell.

Morgan's cloak began to flutter as the first series of runes flared out, encircling my wrist. Shaking I continued pushing energy into the spell, my vision tunneling in around the edges, two more circles of runes flaring to life, lighting up in sequence, as I chanted in my head. Blades of wind flew down from the walls, slicing into the Plegian army, as I forced my hand to remain still. Morgan's chant built, wind picking up with every word.

" _EXCALIBUR!"_ Howling, the wind picked up, a great northern gale originating just to my left, and lashing out into the avenue below. The already dusty haze hanging over the city thickened as Morgan's spell carried itself forwards, tears flesh and inorganic matter alike.

" _Thoron."_ My own voice came in a whimper, vision swimming from the sheer effort of containing the magical lightning. Keeping my arm raised presented greater effort than ever before, as the sudden rush of energy outward left me barely able to understand everything that followed. Six inches wide, the column of raw energy struck outwards, small spikes of lightning flying off, into the ground, buildings, anything it could.

In perfect synchronization, a wave of uncomfortable magic flared up, crashing over me as Morgan's voice rang again, this time, quivering the smallest degree. " _Ex Soliel: Yata!"_

At once, fire consumed my vision, swallowing the Thoron bolt, a wave of wind and heat slammed outwards with enough force to stagger me, and toss some unprepared straight off their feet. Those who weren't dove behind parapets. Peering out into the firestorm in awe and horror. A few feet from the walls, fire roiled along a shimmering barrier, as the seconds ticked by, cracks started to form. Morgan hissed in pain, and I could see an actual halo surrounding her, stark white against her otherwise dark cloak. With a final roar, the fires burnt themselves out, wind rushing back in once again.

"Gods…." Chrom recovered first, a sort of fearful awe tinging his tone, not that I could blame him. Stone buildings scorched black, windows shattered, charred remains of barricades and bodies alike smoldered in the street. Less than thirty seconds before, the Plegian army pressed close to the walls, and now, charred corpses. Although I knew the stone construction of the city meant that most of the damage would be superficial that didn't lessen the impact of witnessing the devastation first-hand. No doubt, the Plegian army would return soon. "How long until they figure out we can't do that again?" For several seconds, the question hung.

"We could." Morgan spat a glob of blood over the wall as she spoke. "Just differently." Seeming to ignore Chrom's incredulous stare, she added, dry. "Although our options are limited. Mjolnir is far too destructive to use in a city, and my control of Valfame is limited." A harsh cough shook her. "We would need Lady Emmeryn to assist." Chrom and I traded an incredulous look. "That will hold for.." Her next words got lost, as the girl swayed on her feet, only saved from toppling when Chrom grabbed her arm. "Long enough." For a split second her eyelids fluttered, weight dropping against Chrom's shoulder entirely. "Grima…damnit."

"Chrom, get her to the medics. Start rotating people on the walls while we have the chance. Have the pegasi start hunting targets." Giving a gesture of affirmation, Chrom led Morgan away, leaving me to watch for returning Plegian's.

When Morgan claimed she had a spell capable of what I wanted, I couldn't have imagined. Divine magic being well outside my reach I only somewhat understood its capabilities. Of course, that such a spell could require so much that it all but incapacitated the girl was a problem in and unto itself. Of course, if it stood against whatever the Grimeal could throw at them it might well be worth it.

"Send for me if anything changes." The nearest Captain saluted, but I only made it a few steps off the steps before fatigue caught up. Almost eighteen hours without sleep, casting powerful magic, and fighting, left me swaying on my feet, even walking proving difficult.

"Gezz, you're worse than Morgan is." Just as my knees decided to give out, someone caught my arm. "You're not good to anybody dead, you know?"

While I registered Severa's words, they were all but drowned out by a deep, rumbling in my head. _Your resistance amuses me, girl. How long can you pretend to believe this city will not burn? How long will you delude them?_ I elected to ignore Grima, as best I could. _Even your precious Chosen weakens._

"Robin?" Laurent's voice cut across Grima's, and all at once, a wave of nausea flooded me, drowning out Grima's laugher and taunts.

"I'm fine." Pointedly ignoring Severa's snort, I took a second to compose myself. "Not used to casting Thoron yet." While my initial impression of Severa suggested her to be a cynical but not especially well learned, there did seem to be a wealth of knowledge beneath her more than prickly exterior, and a sharp ability to read others, if her disbelieving glare were to be believed. "I'll rest for a bit Severa." She didn't seem to buy it, considering I found myself being dragged off.

 _ **-FE:DUL-**_

 **Light in Darkness: Arielle**

I hardly noticed day breaking. Hurling my Falchion into the nearest tree with enough force to sink the blade to the hilt, I turned away, pushing down the pain resulting from forcing my battered body into something beyond its means. Reflexively, I grasped for magic to try and numb the pain, remembering far too late. My vision exploded in stars, and I screamed.

Throat raw, I found myself sprawled in the dirt, tears flaking off my cheeks, tasting bile and blood in equal measure. Morgan would always represent a psychological weakness, but I didn't expect simply talking about her, and why I abandoned her to unbalance me so much. Perhaps a result of so many stressful and unplanned situations in such a short time, coupled with the jubilation I could feel radiating off of Grima, despite neither of us opening that connection. Alternatively, my own mental state was more fraught than I anticipated.

"Enough." Forcing myself upright, at least to a kneeling position took far more effort than I expected, for pain being the only obstacle. A constant companion, resulting from myriad experiences, pain was something I taught myself to ignore from as early as I could remember, and shouldn't have incapacitated me. "This has gone far enough."

Unlike clearing my mind during combat, I took to mediation later in life. When even the slightest slip of my control might return me to Grima's thrall, I sought any means to keep myself in check. Mediation proved the most helpful and enduring, although as the centuries progress, I found less and less time to spare, or need to avoid Grima's possession, as my ability to stay level headed improved.

Bit by bit, my breathing leveled, dull aches and pains fading away, or at least from focus. Warmth flooded my limbs with every deliberate exhale, although my tumultuous thoughts did not still so easily.

 _Chosen._ Grima's gravely rumble bounced between my ears without any warning.

"Grima." With none present to hear, I saw no reason not to speak aloud. "You seem to be enjoying yourself." I contemplated taunting him before deciding such a course of action to be ill advised. Grima thus far paid me little mind, and I would have preferred it remain that way, even if I possessed my full strength again.

Silence lingered for seconds on end. _You taught the child well._ Robin. It stood to reason that, imprisoned and disembodied as he was, Grima would observe Robin, given that he had observed me, in my time. His observation that I taught her, however, implied something further, more than the simple watching I endured. _You have taught her fear. I will teach her power._

"No." Perhaps it was a pointless protest, I was magicless, surrounded by suspicion and doubt. To think I had the power to challenge a god was laughable. "I don't believe you will." Even if I lacked the ability to fight Grima, I trusted Robin to resist his lure.

A growl, one that might have shaken mountains had Grima been corporeal, served to send a thrill of satisfaction down my spine, a small victory in getting a rise out of him. _You have abandoned her, Chosen. Even now, she struggles in the face of inevitable destruction._ What? I had known Ylisse was attacked, but not a battle such as that. Times had certainly changed, Lucina, the other children and me coming back ensured that, but I didn't think that saving Emmeryn's life would radically alter how Gangrel acted. _Her allies shirk and hide, and leave her weak, powerless to defeat those who stand before her. To save those lives she promised to uphold._

A chill swept the clearing, no doubt only the wind, as I parsed those words. Ylisse was under attack, and losing. Plegia possessed a large and better trained military, so that made sense. Her allies should have meant the Shepherds, but none of them were powerful yet, not in the way that would make a god take notice. Grima would call out Chrom specially if he was referring to the Prince. "Some of the children are in Ylisse." Exhale. Inhale. Warmth rushed down my limbs in time with that, as I worked through the consequences of that realization. If Kjelle, Nah, and Noire were here, it stood to reason some of the others might have met each other and tried to find Lucina in a group. "Cynthia, for certain, she would hear tell of Marth and know that was her sister. Severa, presumably dragged by Cynthia, if they could find each other." Both young women were formidable warriors, having faced down Grima's hordes time and again. While alone, I doubted their ability to turn the tide of a battle on such a scale, with only one or two others, perhaps they could. "What game is this, Grima."

 _A passing amusement._ In other words, Grima merely wish to taunt me about a victory he felt secure in. _It has been many years since one commanded my will without my leave Chosen._

"You wish to determine how I came to command magic only you know." With a long breath out, I carried on. "How I slew Robin's Father.

 _You are Chosen._ A slow reply, almost contemplative. Obviously, this matter vexed Grima, and he wished for an answer, one I would not be giving. _Forged into a perfect vessel, in your future. Left weak, yet made so strong. I wish to know how you slipped away. How you can command my power without my leave._

Inhale. That was a question even I couldn't answer, for I didn't have the answer. Exhale. My heart tried to race, when he intimated knowledge of the Future, but that meant little. Naga's influence would clue Grima, or his faithful in to what had transpired. Our connection would suggest the rest. "Speculating on my ability to cast your magic is pointless, for us both." Not that I could manage the power required to cast Extinction, or any of Grima's truly impressive magic, even if I understood the workings of the spells.

 _Yet your own child cannot._ For a moment, my breathing stilled. Grima knew of Morgan. This Grima knew of Morgan. Fear sank its teeth deeply into me.

"How do you know of her?"

 _She stands by the mortal you taught. Hides herself, yet wields her blood as her blade._ I didn't care to pick apart Grima's riddles, although I knew at once my daughter refused to utilize the power at her fingertips. _A folly that shall see her bleed._

"Doubtful. Morgan could stand against you in my Future, are you truly so foolish as to believe any of your minions stand a chance against her, or her companions?" I had no right to take pride in that statement, but Grima's flash of anger at being unfavorably compared to anyone sufficed. "I was created to be a vessel. Morgan was not."

 _Perhaps._ A weight settled over my shoulders, as Grima's attention focused fully upon me. _Regardless, she will not save the Exalt. Neither will your Mortal._

"Do you have anything else to say, or may I finish my mediations in peace?"

Anger rolled over me in a wave, as a God turned his fury fully upon me. _Insolent Mortal!_ It seemed, for all the rational conversation we just shared, this Grima retained his insanity. _You dare belittle your God?_

Exhale. Cold rushed in, filling the void left by breath. "You were never my god." This time, the rage was no so much a wave as a hammer blow, striking physically against me. "And you will never be." Oppressive and all consuming, Grima's focus landed squarely upon me, the weight of it slowing the world to a crawl. My breath came in a hitch, as, just for a moment, years of conditioning took hold, and I felt my mental control slip.

 _You will succumb Chosen…Just as your pitiful acolyte is._ Grima intended those words to mock and break my will no doubt, as if claiming my defeat to be inevitable would demoralize me.

"I…bent to you against my will once." Cold suffused my limbs, emanating out from my chest. My eyes closed, and I could feel Grima's tendrils pushing farther into me, attempting to shunt aside the very concept of Arielle into those same dark corners of my own mind I had lived in for years. At the height of my power, I had shrugged such assaults off, yet as my chest tightened, the winter chill seeping into my fingertips, I found myself slipping.

 _Embrace your purpose mortal!_ Behind my eyes, Grima's six-eyed emblem danced. I couldn't feel my limbs, whether from cold or magic I couldn't say.

"You couldn't…possess…me." I rasped the words, forcing each and every one by force of will alone. "Not from here." Halfway across the continent, and sealed away, Grima could push as hard as he wanted, but couldn't possess me.

 _Foolish mortal…this is your purpose. Surely you remember your father's teachings? You will be mine._

"My Father is _dead."_ Anger flared in my chest. "In this world and in mine."

 _You are MINE!_ For a second my heart stopped, my vision swimming grayer and grayer by the moment. _Did you believe taking up the blade of the Divine Dragon would change that? Your purpose, your existence is mine! You will succumb!_

I took hold of the anger, the fear, all of those things that separated me and Grima, and dug my metaphysical heels in. "I will not." Winds started to swirl about the clearing, my breath rushing out of my chest with what little warmth had lingered in my body fled.

By the time vision started to fade, panic lent strength to my lungs, and my breath returned, and with it, fire filled my veins, and for a single moment, I screamed outside my own body, as fire, bright and pure poured down my veins, and, then everything faded away.

 _ **-FE:DUL-**_

 **Tactician of Ylisse: Robin**

I woke to the hellish roars of those zombified dragons, offset by an occasional gong like ring. Morgan's ward flared with brilliant light, shimmering and rippling with impact after impact.

A shout of triumph came from the top of the wall, causing everyone around me to momentarily pause, and then in a flash of light, Chrom and the rest of the Shepherds appeared in the 'courtyard' created by the milling soldiers. All of them looked exhausted, but no one sported any major injuries.

"Robin!" Seeing me moving, Chrom waved me over, before slumping against the Falchion.

"I gather things are going well." As much as I wanted to become angry for them letting me sleep, nothing too horrible must have happened.

"As could be expected. They seemed to be catching on to what your plan is though." Well, that could be expected. "No serious injuries so far, and whatever that spell Morgan cast was, it's still holding up."

"Not for much longer." The girl herself appeared, cloak billowed out from running. "One hour, no more. It would be best if I cease maintain the spell earlier." While I didn't know the first thing about whatever that spell _was_ I could agree that letting a ward such at that fail catastrophically. Another note split the air, and Morgan gasped, her hand flying to her necklace, which flared white for a moment.

"We'll need to deal with those dragon things." Chrom jerked his Falchion free of the stones below. "Which we haven't had any luck with yet. Setting them on fire works fine, but keeping them on fire is harder." Not overly surprising.

"Get me Emmeryn. Miriel, Ricken, with me. Chrom, get yourself and the rest of the Shepherds medical attention. I'm going to need you." The first one had gone up like a torch when hit with higher level fire magic, which I knew Miriel could cast, and Ricken's wind should be able to. "Morgan, how close to an hour can we push it?" Her jaw clenched. I took that to mean the faster we solved the problem, the better.

"I must ask, what do you intend to do?" Miriel and Ricken beside me, I considered the four smaller dragons pummeling the walls. "Surely you observed the inefficacy of magic against these creations?"

"They're dead and rotting, and the first one went up like a candle with a sufficiently powerful spell. While the only person here possessing that particular tome is Morgan, some creative magic should be able to approximate the effect via Elfire." Failing that, I suspected Emmeryn could cast Bolgalone more capably than Morgan or I, and Morgan's strange Divine fire lances would undoubtedly produce favorable results.

"Would it not be more reasonable to ask our allies to utilize the unknown magic they possess?" Miriel countered, already pulling a tome from her robes. "No doubt that presents a more assured solution?"

Unbidden a frustrated snort passed my guard. "If I felt Morgan could without collapsing where she stands, I would. However, we need her to be able to fight." Given how strained Morgan appeared, I suspected that she couldn't manage to use much extra magic at the moment. "Should the need arise; I believe she explained the workings of those Divine spears to the Exalt."

"She did indeed, although I fear I will never wield such magic as Morgan does." Over the din, Emmeryn's arrival went unheard. "For one so young, her command of magic is breathtaking." I could feel Emmeryn's gaze on my back. "How do you wish to address this problem, Robin?" Another peal sounded, definite cracks spreading across the ward as two of the dragons threw themselves forwards.

"Ricken, strongest wind spell you can cast, the nearest one. Miriel, same, but with Fire." While it would lack the magical potency of Bolganone, I saw no reason for this to be any less effective. Both mages chanted, Miriel casting just a second before Ricken.

The dragon died without ceremony, flames consuming enough flesh for the skeleton beneath to crumple, unable to support itself. As the bones cave way, the remaining flesh twitched a few times before collapsing motionless. Another crack appeared in the ward. "Exalt."

Plegian soldiers surged forwards, shields raised to defend what I could only assume to be Grimeal from the maelstrom of spellfire, and a magical weight settled upon the area. Runes flared as I formed my own spell, focusing down upon one of the remaining dragons. " _Thoron."_ Even as Divine flames consumed the it's brethren, the final dragon stared up, jaws open in unthinking confusion as my spell punched a hole into its head, neck, and out the middle of what had once been a stomach. With a keening wail, the creature swayed, collapsing sideways, almost dissolving away, leaving a smaller, humanoid corpse in its place. Grima's rumbling laughter returned at the sight.

 _Behold the fate of Naga's children._ I ignored the Fell Dragon, writing his words off as mere taunts, instead trying to determine our next move. Sending Chrom and the others to try and disrupt the Grimeal bombarding us with magic would be suicide. Unfortunately, we couldn't let them continue as they were. I had seen a large number of landed pegasi, which set the seeds of an idea. Further cracks spread across the ward, and the raw Divine energy pouring off Morgan started to fade away. My gaze snapped to the bottom of the wall, where the girl herself leaned against Severa. The Brunette caught my eyes, shaking her head just once.

A roar of triumph rose from the attackers when Morgan's barrier flickered and died, allowing a hail of missiles and magic to splatter against the wall, or sail over, and into those below. Wyvern's, emboldened by the wait, dove, pegasi scrambling to intercept them, adding to the ever growing chaos of the moment. Something built in the background, not unlike moments before the first dragon appeared, only exceeding that within seconds, continuing to build and build. Emmeryn's staff flared, a more conventional ward intercepting an incoming spell. Miriel and Ricken were casting, as soldiers closed ranks, firing arrows and ducking behind shields. Below, the Grimeal continued to lob their foul magic's upwards, chipping stones from the walls in greater and greater numbers.

I turned, starting to sprint for the stairs down, overwhelmed by a terrible sense of foreboding, as ever growing anticipation trickled out from Grima. Shouts of concern chased me, but there wasn't time to explain. I couldn't explain how I knew, only that I did.

Nausea hit first, staggering me as the magical weight reached a tipping point. My throat started to close, and in the distances, something screamed. Thousands of voices woven together, from every direction. My chest stopped moving, as I tried to scream, call out, _something._

 _ACCEPT YOUR FATE, FOOLISH GIRL!_

In the background, something, magic, device, I couldn't say, exploded. Heat washed over my limbs, a wall of air throwing me without any cause. Something shattered, and my voice joined a new chorus of screams when I hit the earth, rolling several feet which only increased the pain of having most of my bones shattered

Deep grinding laughter filled my ears, preceding and overwhelming cold flooding my limbs, accentuating and numbing the pain of my bones starting to grind themselves together once again.

* * *

 **AN: Mistakes to learn from. Pacing. Tis not good here. And would have been even worse, but a scene got moved to the next chapter, both to even word-counts and because it'll work a bit better for that pacing thing I mentioned. To be honest, one of the biggest failings of this story is it's pacing, I think, and the three POV thing I've got going. Way too late to fix the later now though, and I'll work on my pacing as we go. These two chapters really show that failing though.**

 **Whoever can guess what actual book series I'm coping some pretty serious inspiration from for the 'Siege' part wins' internets cookies. Or something. This particular chapter isn't terribly subtle about it either.**

 **I don't think I've got too much else to say about this one. Next chapter comes out next Tuesday, and I shouldn't be losing three days this week to Windows not understanding simple instructions (or trying to post via Kindle, and 4G).**

 **Reviews, question, comments/concerns are always appreciated. Especially about how Grima is written. He's been giving me hell since he became a 'character', and I'm still not happy with how he turns out.**

 **I shall join you next week for the continuation of 'Bad Things Happen To People Who Don't Deserve It'.**


	28. Chapter Twenty-Six: Nightfall

**Chapter Twenty-Six: Nightfall**

 **Tactician of Ylisse: Robin**

"Robin?" Smoke and dust clogged the air, parting enough to reveal Emmeryn, staff blazing. Catching sight of me she rushed over kneeling, her eyes flickering between my injuries. "Don't move." Shouting from nearby soldiers could be heard, managing to work its way through my exhaustion and agony. "I'll have someone taking you somewhere safe in a moment." I doubted I would have to wait that long, the cold started to recede from my torso, filling my limbs anew.

"The Exalt's over here!" That accent struck me as decidedly non-Ylissean.

Emmeryn spun, robes flaring out, her own magic rising. Runes, flowing and elegant in a manner entirely different from those in my own cloak, began to glow. "Enough." A note of steel I never heard before entered her tone. Taking a step forwards, Emmeryn gestured, creating a sudden burst of wind, sending the clouds of rubble and dust away, without so much as a verbal incantation.

Four dozen Plegian soldiers were revealed, charging towards the Exalt. I struggled to rise, only managing to rise a few inches, in time to see a blat of fire carry one soldier from his feet into the one directly behind. Wind continuing to rise, as Emmeryn flipped her wrist, a gesture almost casually dismissive, two more fireballs. Two more corpses.

Screaming, nearest soldier hurled his axe, before charging in bare-fisted. Grima cackled, the magic sustaining my limbs snuffed out for a brief second, allowing a wave of total and all-consuming agony to crash over me.

Stepping to the side, Emmeryn let the axe pass harmlessly. White light flared around her, and the berserk man jerked back, a spear of white flames buried directly into his chest. Spinning away conjured spear in hand, two javelins buried themselves where Emmeryn had stood. A swordsman, now caught attempting to flank Emmeryn screamed when her weapon turned his blade aside, destroying flesh and blood alike. Two fireballs splattered against Emmeryn's cloak ineffectually, her own protections absorbing them without difficulty.

 _Impressive, for a Child of Naga._ Grima struck me as reluctantly impressed by the Exalt. _To think one of her Chosen would stoop so low as take the lives of others so cavilierly._

Lightning flashed down Emmeryn's arms, wards flaring to absorb two blows, leaping down the metal to their wielders. Of the four dozen who attacked, she had already dispatched nearly a dozen, and as two more were added to the pile, the rest backed off, forming a wary semi-circle.

"I am not my brother." Emmeryn's words rang, cutting over the low din elsewhere. "I do not enjoy the shedding of blood. If you surrender, I will ensure you are not harmed." Her robes were flared as though caught in a gale, her right hand shook, some spell leashed by her will alone.

Unfortunately, Plegian soldiers did not, breaking into jeers. "How 'bout you just come with us all quiet like?" One of them shot back. "We'll treat you real nice."

Emmeryn's stance widened, magic flaring brighter still. "Very well then. If that is the path you have chosen." Once again, the Plegian soldiers charged, now a united front.

This time, there was no hesitation in the Exalt. Stepping forwards, her wrist twirled, conjuring another of those Divine Lances. She caught the weapon amidst the haft, a small twist deflecting the first incoming blade. Before the soldier could move to defend, Emmeryn thrust her weapon squarely into his throat, before tearing it free, already whirling to turn aside another two strikes. Fire snapped from her free hand, and a woman stumbled back, axe falling from burning fingers. Another collapsed, the chest plate of his armor torn open by the butt end of Emmeryn's conjured weapon, fire tearing flesh and bone alike.

 _Perhaps I underestimated her._ High praise from the Fell Dragon, as Emmeryn disarmed and killed two more, fear starting to set in for the Plegian soldiers. Spearing twirling above her head, taking another life with only barely a second of hesitation, Emmeryn stepped back, resuming a protective stance before me.

Pushing myself upright, magic flared to life down my limbs, Fell Magic started to recede once, leaving a sort of empty feeling behind. Luckily, my sword hadn't been drawn when the explosion happened, and I drew the blade, at last catching the attention of the Plegian soldiers, who took one look between me, Emmeryn, and me again, and turned to flee. Emmeryn turned, eyes widening in surprise."Lady Robin-"

"I'm…fine." Catching the skeptical look, I tried to chuckle, only getting a rasping cough instead. "Really, I am. Just…recovering. I'm not Gr, I can't get launched off a wall and just shrug it off." While I did, in fact seemed to have a healing factor, mine lacked the potency and speed hers did.

"I see." With clamor Risen poured into sight, most weaponless, although a few clutched at the weapons they held when they died, half broken swords or lances dangling from unfeeling fingers. Emmeryn's eyes darkened, further magic flaring to life. "A moment, Lady Robin." Magic washed over the courtyard, the Brand on her forehead starting to glow, Naga's magic taking hold of the Exalt before she turned away from me, and towards that abomination. My vision swam in the outwash of Divine power, the Risen turning their attention fully upon the present threat of the Exalt.

In a manner similar to my casting Thoron, a swirl of runes formed about her arms, branching out almost to the ground, as the Risen shambled forwards. Emmeryn intoned a spell under the cover of that roar, and, a flare of white light and destructive fire erupted beneath the creatures, consuming them entirely.

As the outwash of magic completed I swayed on my feet. "Lady Emmeryn. We cannot stay here." While the Exalt appeared far more capable of defending herself than I anticipated, we were only two, standing against what amounted to an entire army.

"No." Shaking away her stupor, Emmeryn turned to offer me a wry smile. "I suppose we cannot." With a soft flash, the spear she'd been holding faded away, Emmeryn herself seeming to crumble under a sudden weight.

"Found them!" With a rush of wind, Cynthia dropped out of the air, her Pegasus's wings stained with soot, but otherwise no worse for wear. From the rubble, the rest of her companions picked their way into view, Morgan coming last. Despite the surrounding devastation, the little group seemed at home, their footing sure as they vaulted piles of rubble, and one of them always watched their back, as though expecting an attack at any moment.

"I will concede whoever is responsible for this plan is relatively competent." Morgan drew level, lips drawn in a frustrated growl. "They have breached the wall twice beside this, and are creating a large deal of chaos, although there is some confusion amongst the Plegian ranks."

Emmeryn paled, only a bit at that news. "I see." Steadying her breath, the Exalt turned to me. "Your orders, Lady Robin?"

"No time!" Laurent's cry shattered my half formed thoughts. "They're returning!" A few arrows clattered into the stones nearby, along with what looked frighteningly like an axe.

"Severa, Cynthia." For the first time, Morgan seemed to truly assume the mantle her compatriots placed upon her, eyes darkening, posture straightening up, as bits of lightning starts to swirl about her fingers. "Laurent, stay with the Exalt. Yarne. Find the others." Turning, she offered me a questioning look.

"I can fight." With magic, at least. Swordplay Her eyes flickered in surprise. "I'm walking, Morgan, not in any shape to use a blade at the moment." Her lips turned up, in what I suspected to be pleasure.

"As you wish." Before more words could be exchanged, more soldiers poured in.

 _"Thoron."_ Morgan's magic sprang to life, followed only a second later by Emmeryn's, claiming half a dozen lives in a split second, sparks of lightning swirling about her.

Those who managed to survive the initial seconds survived only a few moments longer, cut down by either Severa or Cynthia. However, for every soldier they cut down, another moved forwards. For all the skill the duo displayed, the sheer numbers of foes would overwhelm the meager group of us in a matter of minutes, even accounting for three mages throwing everything they could into the fight.

 _You can save them._ Grima wormed his way back into my thoughts, the pressure of magic on my skull mounting once again. _Use the power you were given…bring your enemies to their knees, take their souls for your pleasure…_ Up until that final remark, I could almost have believed him.

 _I don't need to destroy anything!_ Emmeryn's palm's flared with flames, sending another soldier scrambling back screaming, abruptly silenced by a lance to the throat. _I'm trying to save people's lives, not…not..._ Not turn into a thrall to a destructive god.

 _And you have that ability, girl._ Even if Grima represented a dragon, I could imagine him smirking. _You have seen the power of my Chosen…power beyond even that child playing at Divinity._ Child playing at Divinity? Although I could only guess the Fell Dragon meant Morgan, the reason, or implications of such a description were unknown to me. _She will fail._

" _Thoron!"_ Two wyvern's spiraled out of the skies, . Ducking beneath an axe, Morgan drove her sword into its owner's chest, before retreat back to beside Emmeryn. My own body moved on instinct, picking a few more cavaliers from the back of the battle lines. "This is…ridiculous." Obviously winded, Morgan skipped backwards from another strike, flicking her wrist to kill another.

 _You see? Even she cannot save you._ Grima's taunts radiated victorious pride at Morgan's exhaustion. _The bastard-girl cannot sustain your victory! Her blood is impure, her power weak! Do you truly wish to save them?_

Of course I did. Cynthia's pegasus dropped to the earth amidst a shower of arrows, sporting several more wounds, only to immediately rear up to avoid getting impaled on nearby spears. I flickered my gaze about, trying to assess the best way to fall back with such a tiny group.

"It's the Exalt!" Spinning on my heel, I couldn't help but stare as a ragged contingent of Ylissean troops scrambled out of the dust, shooting arrows and hurling spears into the unsuspecting Plegian soldiers, who surprised turned their attention away from what they perceived to be the lesser threat, something that I could already tell was a dire mistake. In only the brief lull in the battle, the will to fight of the Plegian forces shattered, and the survivors bolted.

 _You were saying?_ I couldn't resist taunting Grima, as once again, his prophecies of doom and destruction came up wanting.

 _They will fall._ Obviously unphased by what should have been a setback Grima faded to the back of my consciousness. _Even my Chosen could not save you from what will come. If you wish to save your precious friends, accept the power you were born to wield._ And, then, Grima faded away, no longer pressing against my consciousness.

 _ **-FE:DUL-**_

In the end, less than a thousand battered soldiers trickled to us, along with the Shepherds. Cynthia claimed there were others, but it didn't matter because I don't have them. I would never admit it, but Grima seemed awfully, frighteningly, right. I could concoct plenty of plans, but all of them relied upon having something to defend. Something more than a wall with three giant holes in it.

"They're still hanging back." Cordelia's mount hit the ground harder than normal, it's rider almost falling over from exhaustion. "Many of the Plegian troops seem rather confused." A thin trickle of blood ran down her check. "We haven't seen many Wyvern's either.

While I didn't want to question a stroke of our good fortune, they should have finished what they started long ago. "Some good news at least. Get some rest Cordelia. We're going to need you." She managed a ragged smile, before being swept away in the chaos. Emmeryn and the other healers were working overtime to get everyone into something approaching fighting shape, and although I never voiced the opinion, I didn't think it would matter.

All at once, wind picked up, biting chill blowing in from the north-east, carrying agonized screams with it. My head jerked back, Grima worming his way back into my cognizance, sheer glee pressing against my soul itself. For a few seconds the entire city sat, letting those screams die away. Driven by some unknown instinct I set off towards Chrom, his Falchion throwing pure white light with greater intensity than before, leaving him easy to spot amidst the press.

"Robin?" As I drew level, he gestured at the sword. "Any idea what is happening?"

"Grimeal." Or worse, Grima himself. Still, all legends claimed the Fell Dragon's powers to have been sealed by the First Exalt, but with his followers raising zombified dragons, and him whispering in my ears, the idea of the Fell Dragon exerting direct influence couldn't be discounted. "Every time Falchion glowed in the past Grimeal, or Risen were involved."

"I am afraid your problems are far greater than just the Grimeal." I turned, no longer surprised that Morgan joined us, expression unusually grim. "You don't feel it?"

Of course I felt it. Even if I consciously ignored the churning in my gut, I couldn't ignore the pressure mounting behind the eyes as a result. "Grima's magic has coated the city since the walls were destroyed."

Morgan pushed a few stray hairs from her eyes. "What might create it?"

"I assumed a ritual of some sort." The feeling resembled that prior to the appearance of the first dragon, and my best guess was that a ritual was needed to create them. "I don't know of my piece of magic that might affect me this strongly, and over such a length of time."

She laughed, the purity of that sound striking me as at total odds with the situation at hand. "Oh no. Ritual magic cannot do this…" She trailed off, as though wanting to say more, but something stayed her tongue. "We passed near the Dragon Table during our travels, and it carried an aura similar to this." The amount of magic choking the air resembled the burial place of Grima himself? Something told me that didn't bode well for us. Morgan's eyes narrowed onto the darkness, a subtle sheen of magic settling over them. All at once, her left hand snapped out. " _Thoron!"_ A spear of lightning at least half a foot across, lashed out, only to skitter off some kind of defensive spell. A demonic roar shook the battlefield, followed by an explosion of black smoke. Magic, akin to that which overwhelmed me in the moments before Validar's death, flared to life. "No." Taking two steps forwards, Morgan drew her blade. "Prepare your soldiers." The smoke coalesced into a person, wreathed in black, unearthly fire. Behind them, Plegian war horns sounded.

A second time, Morgan started casting, further lightning flashing across the battlefield, only to be turned aside, and bore into the earth. A wave of black sparks, only just visible in the post dawn light, erupted from a sweeping gesture. Without hesitation, Morgan mimicked the motion, a pulse of white light destroyed the sparks, returning a sequence of identical white sparks. Behind me Chrom shouted for the soldiers to prepare, and a clatter, Ylissean soldiers began to form ranks. In the few seconds of turning my attention away from the ongoing duel, I lost track of any continuity in the battle. Arrows flew overhead, many being swept aside in the outwash of magic from Morgan the Grimeal dueling.

On the opposite side of the battle, Plegian soldiers were gathering, a few officers shouting and gesturing, obviously trying to find a way to around the fighting. Before they did, Morgan closed the distance, engaging her opponent in a furious bladed battle, leaving the field free for others to pass.

"Spears!" Chrom stepped in front of me, Falchion raised even as I allowed my magic to bubble up, throbbing pain in my chest best ignored for now. " _Elthunder!"_ Somewhere across the line, in the near distance, I could hear Miriel and Laurent calling for fire, Ricken's younger, quivering intonation just a second behind.

A few scattered spells flee from the enemy ranks, countered or swatted aside by our own without difficulty. In the midst, Morgan twirled, lightning leaping down her blade, to clash with the shadowy weapon conjured by new mage. As they did, a thunderclap rang out, throwing some Plegian soldiers from their feet, and staggering the ranks nearest us. Howling in defiance, the Ylissean army pounced on the opening, and the Plegian first rank shattered.

 _Do you believe the Divine Child capable of victory?_ Grima asked, as I brought my blade down on to the neck of a soldier, barely registering the death. _How confident are you that she can defeat this new threat?_ I parried a spear, and the man beside me ran its owner through. Elthunder sparked of my hand, saving the life of a woman four bodies farther down the line.

" _Thoron!"_ Delivered at touching distance, Morgan's magic at last produced some result, staggering her foe, and opening some distance between them.

I had no choice but to believe Morgan capable. I couldn't. Whoever this new mage was, they possessed a command of magic that far outstripped anything I knew, save for Gri, and Morgan herself. Morgan batted aside a glob of black energy, which tore flesh and bone asunder amongst the Plegian troops it struck. Agonizing screams rose over the tumult of battle, as a fireball of Morgan's splattered into the Plegian advance. Caught between the results of two dueling mages, and the Ylissean army, the Plegian attack stalled.

"Hold!" If we continued pushing, in short order, it would be our beleaguered forces that died at the hands of our own. Those Plegian soldiers, eye wide in fear, threw themselves into the fight with increased vigor.

 _Your knowledge of my power, girl, is but the tip. Souls can be taken, flesh can be sundered, minds can be stripped away._ My skin crawled, and I fumbled a block. Pain lanced up my shoulder as I twisted too slowly to avoid the thrust of a spear, my cloak's runes defending me against the brunt of the attack. _Your wounds can be sealed in an instant. Your strength never fade. Any magic you wish…yours to command. You will exceed my Chosen, girl. Her power is borrowed, false._

I found myself fighting beside Chrom. Falchion pulsed with white light, untarnished by the fighting. Taking advantage of a lull in the destructive duel before us, fresh soldiers returned the battle to a fever pitch. Chrom deflected an axe, giving enough of an opening

 _"GRIMA!"_ I didn't know who used the spell, only that one moment, we were beset with Plegian troops, and the next, they lay dead. Even Gri couldn't display that casual display of Grima's magic.

 _Soul taking._ Satisfaction oozed from Fell Dragon. _A lesser art, but powerful. You can see why my chosen favors it…painless, swift, efficient._ Of course I knew those things. Gri explained as much when she first explained some of the magic I witnessed. Despite that, the former Grimeal refused to explain the workings of the spell, not that I asked for them. _I offer that knowledge, Mortal. Knowledge to save the lives of your friends. Of that pitiable Divine Child._ I turned a spear from Chrom's back, searching for some excuse, some reason why I shouldn't take the offer. Every story, every anything pertaining to Grima warned against accepting deals he offered, and yet, aside from those vague warnings, I didn't have much choice. Of course, a deal with Grima surely carried a catch, or hidden snag. _No catch Mortal. I offer knowledge, freely._ How could I trust the word of Grima, regardless of how promising it might have sounded?

Chrom slipped on pooling blood, his guard falling just enough for a spear to slip past, burying itself into his right shoulder. Twisting, I called for lightning, the _Elthunder_ snapping out, buying only a second before the next figure joined the battle, this one brandishing a weapon. . Any advantage I might have been able to gather, I had to take. _I accept._

Once again, the world faded to gray. Something…ancient…fundamentally wrong brushed against my consciousness. Soldiers continued to pour forwards, my limbs moving of their own accord. Another blade turned to the side, Cordelia blocked a spear, Sumia was there, magic flashing off her palms in a frantic effort to protect Chrom. Time passed, how long, I didn't know. My head spun, magic I could never dream of suddenly _there,_ nestled just at the edge of my thoughts, as natural to consider as my favored Elthunder, or Fire, or Wind.

 _"Ex Astris: Grima!"_ I knew the spell, now. Icy tendrils bored into my chest, a now familiar sensation to tell me that, beyond any shadow of a doubt this spell came from Grima himself. Magic jumped out, thin tendrils wrapping around nearby soldiers. Warmth rushed back up that connection, almost calling out. With a small mental effort, I tugged, and, finding some resistance, I pulled harder, a flood of warmth heralding the immediate collapse of nearly forty Plegian soldiers No fresh soldiers rushed to fill the new gap, leaving a widening bubble in the fighting, and once again, a clear view of the ongoing duel between Morgan and the Grimeal.

Unlike the battle around them, the two hardly slowed. Black and white lights flashed, spells being cast and unraveled at breakneck speeds, all while the two clashed with blades. Although the two still exceeded my abilities, I found subconscious knowledge flooding in, allowing me to understand at least a little more of the fighting. Another explosion sent both of them sliding back. The Grimeal woman's hand came up, strategically obscuring my view of her mouth, and whatever spell she might have been casting. Morgan's arm flipped up, one of those Divine lances catching another spell head on, the blast wave tossing those few Plegian's nearby from their feet. For the first time, Morgan herself was tossed back, rolling across the bloody cobbles to a stop in front of all of the Shepherds. Rising, to her feet, the girl glared down her opponent.

Said woman, still floating a few inches off the ground, dispelled her own conjured blade, the black flames swirling around her eyes fading away. Drifting forwards, the woman's magical presence faded, although my skin continued to crawl. "You've grown." Her voice, distorted and graveling, resembling neither Grima's, nor a human, instead, caught by some horrible in-between. "Even if I have no right to take pride in that."

Before us, Morgan tensed, knuckles whitening over her sword. "Mother?" Magic came to a halt. Cloak falling limp in time with her magical presence snuffing out, all of Morgan's previous authoritative presence, replacing it with someone who seemed very small, and very scared.

Black fire clung to every inch of the woman, although, every few seconds, flashes of purple would shoot down her limbs. "I'm sorry." A bit more human, those two words carried some impossible weight, as though apologizing for more than just leaving her daughter behind.

Something about that declaration flipped a switch, and Morgan screamed. Her sword flared pure black, Fell magic rushing into the gaps in the metal; an explosion of magic staggering the Shepherds as Morgan threw herself forwards, blade turning into a streak of light. In a flicker of magic, the woman vanished, reappearing in arms reach of me, back turned. Morgan, turned, and I recoiled when her eyes brushed over mine. No magic discolored those green orbs. No emotions bubbled over, no tears, or even a hint as to what went on behind them. Morgan's head cocked, and then the battle resumed.

Morgan's first strike left a deep grove in the cobblestone, biting nothing but air. The same story followed, the Grimeal weaving ducking, and teleporting away from every strike, set to the horrible backdrop of Grima's laughter. Morgan feinted, spinning back around without any warning. I saw the Grimeal woman's eyes widen, and she vanished, reappearing a greater distance away. By this point, the few who still fought turned their attention to the frenetic duel, not that either combatant noticed. Despite Morgan's repeated near hits, the Grimeal didn't defend herself, only avoiding the attacks. Deep gouges in the stone marked the path they followed, until, the Grimeal woman dropped to the earth, perform a surprisingly acrobatic flip to avoid a hit to the shoulder, rolling to the right, leaving her back exposed. Morgan struck, and the ring of metal filled the otherwise still air.

With a twist, the Grimeal reorient herself, feet now planted on the ground, conjured blade locked to Morgan's. Seconds, five, then tens, passed by, before they separated, the Grimeal putting some distance between them.

"Why." Broken and battered, Morgan's tone caught me entirely by surprise. "Why now?"

The woman's lips worked, without any sound passing them. Her expression twist, roiling between so many different things, I couldn't imagine what they might have meant. "I…I must go." I got a sudden flood of familiarity as the woman smiled, sadness and pride melting together with another grimace of pain. "Do not lose sight of who you are Morgan. What you are." Morgan took a step forwards, no doubt to stop her from leaving, when a single, blinding flash illuminated the street. When vision returned, the Grimeal vanished, leaving nothing but a perfectly circular patch of melted stone in her place.

 _ **-FE:DUL-**_

 **Lady of Naga: Lucina**

Even before Falchion seared white hot against my palm, I felt the change. Grima, somewhere, somehow, acted. Leaving the others to their musings, I stood, drifting out of the town, fingers burning from the raw energy roiling off my sword. Finding the little clearing took time, but something instinctual brought me to the small opening in the otherwise heavy forest north of the village. That left me standing, clutching a Divine weapon, attempting to make sense of a myriad of disconnected clues. No doubt, Morgan, Laurent, or one of the more magically inclined could have given form to the nebulous feeling settling in my stomach as I stared down at the single set of footprints leading to the center of the clearing where a depression in the snow suggested someone sitting, but no tracks led away. Arielle claimed to be far too weak to teleport, and I had seen an instinctive attempt to conjure a small flame bring her to her knees. Yet, no second set of footprints led away.

Standing where she had sat, I turned, slowly, looking for anything else that might have been out of place. For the most part, the clearing resembled any other, but something caught my attention a little to my right. The glint of metal, deep in the side of one of the larger trees. Ghosting across the snow towards it, I only need to make it halfway there before I realized what the object was.

Falchion, buried to the hilt in a tree, seemingly thrown with tremendous force. My own blade pulsed in my palm, no long burning my fingers though my gloves, an abrupt wave of heat following the discovering of Arielle's weapon. For, it had to be Arielle's weapon, the only other Falchion in existence would have been Father's and I knew full well he couldn't be here.

"She would never leave her weapon." Grasping the hilt of the blade, I pulled it free with my left hand, considering the weapon as though it might cough up some secret about its wielder. Arielle made no secret of her dislike of the Divine Blade, but, for all of that, she still treated it with a sort of reverence, almost never letting it out of sight. Even if her emotions overflowed, as Nah implied, Arielle would not simply throw the blade away and leave it behind. Someone, I didn't think the Lady of Grima would either.

Before I could draw any reasonable conclusion, Falchion flared, both weapons throwing brilliant white light across the clearing, just before a presence I knew and feared settled in. I spun, weapons dropped into a low guard, eyes darting in search of the vortex of magic, signaling the appearance of the Fell Dragon himself.

From the spot she sat so many hours before, Arielle materialized. "Lucina." Her voice grated, lacking any of the usual musicality inherent to the Lady of Grima, or even Arielle. Falchion burned hotter against my palm. Sparks fell off the edges of Arielle's cloak, her form lit a hellish orange of her protective runes.

"What-" I didn't finish the question because I already knew the answer. Even when she tore Validar from his own bones, I didn't feel this. Those moments were focused, controlled fury, not the wild indiscriminate hatred I felt now.

"I…" Her breathing hitched, left eye flashed black for a split second. "Kill….me." Even those three words seemed to exhaust her, muscles bulging in her neck, and her checks drawing in. Agony stretched her lips thin, betraying a no doubt titanic inner struggle. "Now!" The sparks falling from her cloak were now embers, pitch black. Somehow, I found myself hesitating.

A relatively short time ago, perhaps even just weeks, she wouldn't have finished the request, before I plunged Falchion into her chest. Now, however, I couldn't muster that same visceral hatred, or even fear. Just for an instant, my eyes flickered to the swords in my hands. Arielle's Falchion, thrumming just as mine did, it's instinctive magic casting a bright enough light that even the swirling shadows of Arielle's cloak shrunk away. A mark that Naga, for whatever reason, felt Arielle important to the future of the world.

By her own admission, Arielle bore direct and tangible responsibility for the deaths, probably torturous, of my parents. Of my friend's parents. Possessed by Grima, she laid waste to the world at large, scouring the land free of life. By her own words, she let those things happen, because she was too weak to try and prevent them. But she did, the treacherous thought returned. Bright white, the scar about her neck spoke to that. She tried to resist Grima, and nearly succeeded. Tried. Here she was, trying, and, I could see, failing. Stormy grey eyes were fading to black, although on occasion a flare of magic would push that back again. Grima's magic, manifesting as pure black fire wreathed her cloak, the oppressive aura growing ever stronger.

"Lucina." More and more of Grima crept into her voice, leaving it almost unrecognizable as Arielle herself. "Please." One of her arms jerked, a quiet whimper passing her lips.

I took a breath. Offered a small prayer to Naga. A wind swirled, blowing aside that cloak, it's protective runes useless. Divine magic flooded my limbs, heat and surety of purpose bolstering my flagging confidence. Arielle's eyes softened, and her lips moved, words I didn't look at, didn't hear. Falchion bit deep, my ears filled with a wild surging triumph, burying the agonized scream until the wind rose again, carrying them both into oblivion.

 ** _-FE:DUL-_**

 **Tactician of Ylisse: Robin**

"Mi'Lord, they're approaching!"

Chrom spun, his eyes wild. "I don't give a damn what the Plegian's are doing, where is my sister!" A question none of us could answer. In the fighting, we had been separated, and not a soul could be found who'd seen her since. Chrom took her disappearance hard, and I hadn't seen him rest for a moment. Those few surviving Plegian wyvern's circled close, keeping any pegasi from taking flight, although few were around to do so. Despite this, my opposite didn't press their advantage, and, for all intents and purposes I knew the battle to be over. Should they attack a final time, nothing, save the direct intervention of Naga herself would save us.

"They're holding a flag for truce, Mi'lord." Frederick, managed to maintain the greatest calm of anyone, although by his tone, I suspected even he would come apart shortly.

"Chrom." I cut off the building argument. "Let us see what whoever this is wants." Surrender, more than likely, but I didn't voice that opinion. "How many are with him? Never mind, I don't care. Get me Sumia, Cordelia, Frederick, Morgan, her group, and Lon'qu." My first instinct suggested a trap, and even if they were genuine, presenting a strong front would never go amiss.

Flanked by pegasi and a pair of women in Grimeal cloaks, Chrom no doubt cut and impressive image. The destroyed surroundings no doubt undercut the effect, but it would have to do. I counted eleven Plegains approaching, surrounding the larger figure I assumed to be their leader. Stopping a short distance away, he placed his axe on the ground before approaching to a more reasonable speaking distance.

"You fight well, Prince Chrom." His escort stayed beside the axe, back out of earshot. Definitely here to discuss surrender then.

"What new trick is this?" Tempted as I was to interject, I held my tongue. Chrom's question had merit, and I wouldn't begrudge him some hostility.

"No trick" The other man, I assumed their General, sighed, heavily. "Our purpose here is done. There has been enough blood shed, enough suffering inflicted." Chrom's jaw worked, soundlessly attempting to bite out the words sufficient to explain who late those words were. "My King left me no choice in this matter, Prince Chrom. I wish no ill upon you, or your people." To my surprise, the man's eyes dropped, shame dancing across his expression. "My best efforts to spare your people fell upon deaf ears." Grimeal, or Gangrel? Or, I realized, did that question even matter. "I must go, before those rabid dogs grow any worse." No doubt the Grimeal in that case. A lump settled in my throat as the implication sank in. They were leaving.

"Don't." As the General turned, retreating into his army once again, I cut off Chrom's attempt to reply. "We can't fight him Chrom." Nor did we want to, at this juncture.

"Lady Robin is correct." Morgan's admission sounded strained. "If they are willing to withdraw, to prevent them from doing so is foolishness." For several moments, there was quiet. "Tend to your wounded. Bury and grieve for your dead. Do not succumb to vengeance, Prince Chrom. It is a dark, and desolate path, without a pleasant end." A note in Morgan's tone brought me up short.

I could see Chrom wanted to argue, before he settled for jamming Falchion into the cobbles, the sun setting over the smoking ruins before us.

* * *

 **AN: Right. That is that.**

 **To be honest I'm not overly enthused with this entire sequence, but it's done and agonizing over stuff I've already written in the road to rewriting the entire story, and that's a never ending loop of hell. I think it has something to do with this being the most event dense area of the story by a country mile, and so everything just feels rushed. That, and I am only mediocre at action choreography at the best of times, never mind if I'm trying to make multiple large forces dance.**

 **Now. About Emmeryn, because I'm quite aware I took a pretty hard left turn with her in some ways. Canonically, she became Exalt at ten, when her Father unexpectedly kicked the bucket. We aren't told a whole lot about the former Exalt beyond that he started a long and bloody war. Given that set of facts, however, I believe it likely that Emmeryn would have been taught at least a basic level of competency in some manner of fighting, besides just magic. Hence, using spears. Of course, she's still not terribly enthused about fighting, but she can, in fact, fight, and at least short term, quite well (with help).**

 **Okay that, and it makes sense in my head that if Grimeal can conjure swords, Naga's followers can conjure spears. Weapon triangle and all that.**

 **I'll be a bad person and leave some particulars up in the air for this chapter, to be resolved next week. Normally wouldn't do that, (actually, didn't so that in the first draft, but that scene needs more than just 500 throw away words at the end of a chapter so it got moved).**

 **I think that covers everything I wanted to say this time around, so I will see you next week with another installment of Bad Things Happen To People Who Don't Deserve It.**

 **As always, reviews, questions, and concerns are always appreciated. Any feedback on how this entire sequence went would be greatly appreciated ,as there as a few more like it later on in the story that I'd like to ensure go better the second time around.**


	29. Chapter Twenty-Seven: Different Eyes

**Chapter Twenty-Seven: Different Eyes**

 **Child of Darkness: Morgan**

"We'll leave as soon as they can stand on their own." None of my current compatriots agreed with my choice, a short glance at their expressions told me that, but none of them were going to argue. They knew I wouldn't give ground, having already acquiesced to defend Ylissetol. "I am now quite certain that this Marth is Lucina, and although I am unsure as to the identity of this…Gri, Lucina obviously trusts her, and she is a powerful sorceress. It is then our best course to locate the both of them immediately."

"And this isn't because of whoever that crazy Grimeal lady was?" Severa didn't wilt under my glare, not that I expected her to. Of course, I also couldn't accuse her of being wrong. That my Mother, the Lady of Grima herself, came back in time added complexity to our situation. Without Falchion, the odds of defeating the Lady of Grima in combat decreased the longer the duel progressed. During the battle, she seemed to fight against the possession, which gave me enough of an edge to stand my ground.

All of that predicated upon the idea that the Grimeal woman was my Mother. While we bore a stark resemblance, I knew full well the Grimeal could find some sorry woman to use as a weapon. Of course, how that person managed to know about me would be another issue.

"No." Severa backed down after a few long seconds. I didn't need to tell the others about my concerns. Perhaps I might tell Lucina, when we found her, but for now, I didn't want to add to the already growing burden on my companion's shoulders. "Her presence is an unforeseen complication to be sure, but not one I am concerned with at this point." As they expected, I started to smirk. "I would be more worried about our cover story falling apart. Without a looming battle, Robin, and perhaps Virion, will begin asking questions. Virion in particular will pose an issue to our story, being Valmese in his own right."

"You would rather avoid confrontation, and create potential misunderstandings." Laurent murmured, as though that would be some kind of revelation, to either me or the others.

I shrugged. "I would rather not be tied down. A week has passed, and without knowing where Lucina and her companion teleported, they could be halfway to Valm, and us none the wiser. Our priority remains reuniting the entire group, not rebuilding a city that can survive without our aid." Unlike before, I wasn't going to swayed by emotional blackmail. While my attitude might consign many people to die, more would die if we failed, so I would consider the scales more than balanced. "Plegia will not wish to see a repeat of this battle, given their objective success, and the defeat of the Grimeal's secret weapon at the hands of an unknown element. Despite her lack of experience Robin is not about to lead an army into Plegia, which should see the Shepherds relatively safe." So I could hope. "We all agreed sentimentality cannot hamper our efforts, and that is precisely what we are allowing to happen now. Grima is moving faster than we expected. We cannot afford sitting around and waiting."

"Gawds. Must you be right all the time?" I hadn't even been sure Severa listened past me saying we'd leave as soon as possible. Given her problems with her Mother, I doubted the brunette even cared about anything else I said. "Why not just leave now then?" Or, she was trying another 'clever' attempt to coherence me into doing something.

"Because Lucina put some degree of effort into ensuring the Shepherds survive to see all of us born in this timeline, and it would be foolish to squander that. Further, although they are not now, the Shepherds do turn into formidable warriors, ones who could very well aid us when the time comes to do battle with Grima's faithful. Finally, should Plegia defy expectations and invade, I wish to be able to answer them, in a manner somewhat more succinct that before." Should they invade once again, the decision to utilize every tool at my disposal had been made. Mjolnir or otherwise, should the Plegian's want a second round, I would deal with them, in a manner suitably permanent.

"Whatever." Severa returned to glaring out the window at the ruins below. Cynthia caught my gaze, rolling her eyes as she did so. I made an effort to avoid smiling at the familiar exchange. Electing to leave Severa's peculiarities to the other Princess, I checked to ensure that neither Yarne, nor Laurent displayed objections to my plan. Neither did.

"We will be heading north in a few days, unless someone around here is comically incompetent." Severa didn't react but the others nodded, or otherwise acknowledged my words. "I concede all of you were correct. Without us here, this would have ended far worse."

"Lucina's still going to be mad that we didn't save Emmeryn." Were it Severa, I might have thought Cynthia was being passive aggressive. As it stood, I knew she spoke the truth and little else. However, it represented further questions for later.

"My options were to save those we did, or to annihilate half a city. I think Lucina will understand the choice I made." Even if she didn't, that burden lay on me alone. I rose, pulling my cloak tight over my shoulders, having nothing further to say. "We should put in some degree of appearance before they believe we've vanished into the night." With that, I swept out of the room, leaving them to rail against me in peace, as likely as not.

Most of the halls were deserted, all available people working to rebuild as much as they could, leaving me free to hunt for the castle library. My musings on the necessity of Falchion brought up an old memory, something I realized I had forgotten in my haste to find Lucina. Obviously just asking for access to the library of the Exalt seemed a bit presumptuous at the time, but I was confident I could sneak about long enough to find the book I wanted, without everyone distracted.

"Morgan!" Of course, if someone found me before I even reached the library, that entire idea went out the window. Pausing, I turned to consider Robin.

As far as I knew, Robin had no analogue in my memories. None of the Shepherds I remembered wore Grimeal cloaks, or wielded Grima's magic. Indeed, the first time I saw someone besides myself wearing such a cloak had been during the Fall of Ylisse, as we fled the city. Robin's tactical skills were indeed impressive, as Chrom and the Shepherds claimed. In battle, she would not hold against any Valmese soldier, but for the point in time, her skills were impressive, and her command of magic moreso. Few mages mastered, or even attempted to cast Thoron, a spell the Tactician learned and could cast in battle within a few days.

"Lady Robin." Bags hung beneath her eyes, and a general malaise seemed to dog her, although none of the grim determination I saw during the fighting had faded. "Is there something I can do to assist you?"

Her lips quirked, half a smile, half a smirk. "Unless you can rebuild a city with a wave of your hand, or summon the Exalt out of the ether, I doubt it. I'm…simply tired." Doubtless. In the future, I organized and fought many battles, but never did I have to pick up the pieces of my actions, perhaps the one advantage of the world ending around you. "I have something a bit more serious to ask you."

"I will do my best to provide an answer." Two possibilities sprang to mind. She wanted us to find the Exalt, or to join the Shepherds.

"Well, a couple things." Just for a moment, a haunted look caught her eyes. "The woman you fought…she knew you."

"Ah." Well, I didn't think any of them heard that little exchange over the cacophony of battle. None of this changed our plans a great deal however. "I believe she was my Mother."

"You believe." Robin at least had the decency to mask her skeptical tone. "Your reaction to her suggested you were quite confident." Although, interestingly her disbelief seemed to be in my certainty, as opposed to be belief.

I could only shrug. "My Mother vanished within weeks of my birth. I know nothing of her appearance, age, or any other defining feature, besides that at some point either slew one of the Grimeal, or associated with them close enough to receive this cloak. I will admit that I clung to a childish hope for the former option. Perhaps that woman was not my mother. Her appearance was difficult to discern, and in the heat of battle, fighting on adrenaline alone, I reacted more harshly than I might otherwise have. Growing up alone, without parents, I harbor something of a grudge…again, perhaps rather childishly, hence my immediate reaction being an extreme level of violence."

A strange look cross Robin's face, something between guilt, fear, and relief. "I see." Shaking off whatever bothered her, she steeled herself. "I already am fairly certain I know the answer, but I felt it wise to ask someone not tied up in our conflict."

"The Plegian army captured the Exalt. That is almost certain." This question I prepared an answer for. "Their retreat coincides with the disappearance of the Exalt, and the remarks of the Plegian general suggest they had gained something they wanted. The Exalt presents a reasonable target. She allows the Mad King leverage against the Prince." She would give Gangrel the perfect platform to justify his war after the fact, and a precisely chosen bait to lure Chrom and the Shepherds in. "I gather from your expression; you were hoping I had some insight you did not." One could have been forgiven for assuming I had stabbed a baby in front of the tactician, given her face.

"I did." With a long sigh, drew herself together again. "I can't just leave her in Gangrel's hands." That sentence was definitively leading to something. I steeled myself for what I knew to be a growing inevitability.

"Your options are to engage in open war on Plegian soil, acquiesce to his demands, or to do precisely that." Unfortunately, her options were truly more limited than that. Going to war with Plegia simply wouldn't work. They held every advantage, unless someone such as myself took the field of war, and lacked any sort of moral compunction. Which, despite all appearances to the contrary I did possess.

"I see a few more options than that." Leading indeed. Namely, leading to asking us to help. "Although I admit most of them are contingent upon the help of you, and your companions."

Despite my best effort a small sigh slipped past. "Which I am afraid you will have to do without shortly. As soon as I can in good conscience say that Plegia will not invade a second time, I and my companions will be returning to our search." Robin's face fell, before she got control of herself again. "I have every faith you will find a solution Lady Robin."

Her eyes darkened. "I feel your faith is somewhat misplaced, but it is appreciated."

"My experience has been, Lady Robin, that often those who feel least equipped to handle a situation are those who handle them best." A lesson from personal experience. She hummed, either a vague agreement, or an attempt to dodge the question entirely. "I did not feel myself ready, nor able to fill the shoes I have. That my companions turn to me for leadership never fails to concern me." That, at least, was not a lie. Robin's posture shifted, obviously confused. "When you are the court mage of a Valmese nobleman at the frontlines of the war with Walhart, you learn quickly that confidence is important." Letting a bit of my usual coldness fade, I fixed Robin with a sharp stare. "You remind me of myself, Lady Robin, if a few years older, and perhaps less jaded against the world."

"Shouldn't that be the other way around?" The remark was indeed as lighthearted, even if it elicited a twist in my chest. "I don't know for sure, but I suspect I'm more than a few years older than you."

"Perhaps, yes. But I think our experiences are rather different." She gave me a look caught between searching, confused, and disbelieving.

"Considering I don't remember a damn thing from before the Shepherds, I have no idea." I caught some trace of bitterness in the tactician's words. Her words however, left me frowning. Amnesia. While whispers occasionally suggested such a thing, I'd never known anything to confirm it. Another strange layer to a woman who threw an entire timeline into chaos by her mere presence.

I didn't answer at once, choosing to mull my words over carefully. "I cannot speak to total loss of memory, but…as to having oneself be a mystery, or at least your origins, I will admit there is not always comfort in the truth." Her brows furrowed. "My Lord sought to keep my connection to the Fell Dragon a secret from me as long as possible, particularly in light of my ability to call upon Naga's magic. Thus, the first time I cast such magic was an accident, as I tore the soul straight from a traitor's body." The Tactician shuddered, no doubt remembering the spell in question. "A traumatizing act, to be certain." Also, not strictly a lie. During the fall of Ylisse, my Fell powers had awakened, and I had indeed torn the soul of a traitor in the ranks of the guards from his body, and then spent the next years living in fear of my own magic.

"I'm not sure whoever first said ignorance to be bliss understood either concept." Trust her to pick up the point I drove at without me saying it.

"No, they did not. But, sometimes, Lady Robin, digging too far into our past can lead to unpleasant discoveries." Realizing I had drifted away from my original point, I refocused. "You remind me of myself Lady Robin, because you are a powerful mage, skilled with a sword, thrown into a situation well outside of your control and expected to cope with it. I believe you have done a far better job than I." Although she couldn't cast spells of the level of Mjolnir, slaughtering thousands was out of her control yet. "We both got placed at the heads of small, dedicated military groups, and asked to fight seemingly impossible wars." Of course, with any thought, that comparison collapsed upon itself. Granted, one needed information that Robin did not, and could not possess. "Yours, I think is a war that is quite winnable, by comparison." Any war was more winnable than one against an army of millions, or against the undead. "I do not believe you need us, Lady Robin." Not that it really mattered, we were leaving soon.

She shrugged. "I can only hope your correct, as I doubt I can persuade you to change your mind."

"I'm afraid not." We lingered here too long. My moral compunctions would not let me abandon them just yet, but soon I could leave them to stand without adding more blood to my conscience. Once I could be certain they'd survive, departure wouldn't be long. "We have stayed far longer than I indeed already, Lady Robin, and I fear those we are looking for will not sit idly by in the meantime." Whatever Lucina was doing, she wouldn't sit by waiting, I had no doubt of that. No doubt the silly woman didn't even think to hunt for the rest of us, instead focusing on taking down Grima.

"I understand." She didn't, of course, but thought she did, and I would take the gesture for what it was. The Shepherd's tactician drifted away, and I slipped into the castle library otherwise unbothered.

Finding the book in question took only a few moments, the layout not having changed since my youth. Thumbing quickly to the page in question, I swore under my breath as the page confirmed my memory. I now knew where to find Lucina. Of course, the downside was that Naga was involved, like everything else involving Falchion's. Returning the book to its place, I steeled myself for an unpleasant encounter long in the future. My necklace pulsed, a gentle soothing magic, as always responding to my discontent far swifter than should be natural. This time, however, it did little to settle the pit in my stomach. "No stopping it."

"No stopping what?" Unlike someone else in my position, I didn't jump, yelp, or otherwise react to the voice. I did mentally berate myself for allowing myself to be snuck up on, however.

"What I suspect to be a rather unpleasant encounter in my future." Giving elusive answers was an art. Of the three of us, I mastered it, Lucina attained a level of competence, and Cynthia didn't. Learning to spot them even more so.

"Sounds like a bit more than just something unpleasant." Cordelia. Severa's Mother. And, Fell Mage. Although hardly Robin or myself, she none the less radiated the same tendrils of inky magic, and I suspected she knew how to use it.

I elected to chuckle. "Perhaps. Is there something I can do to help you?"

She shifted from foot to foot, armor rustling. "Possibly?" My experience with Cordelia in the future had always been limited. She wasn't, for example, half as bad as Severa claimed, but I could not recall feeling Grima's touch on her before. Severa certainly lacked the ability. "You can use Grima's magic as well, can't you?"

"Unfortunately." Turning, I considered the red headed woman. Askance, but with the same sort of resolve her daughter might display. Given what I could sense, the question made sense, but I did not care to reveal to many of my abilities. "Why?"

"Do you…" For the first time, her eyes dropped, not meeting my own. One of her fists balled, and I found myself quite curious as to what might come next. "Does Grima talk to you? In your head?"

Of course he did, although not frequently. In the future, the Fell Dragon had no need to speak into my mind, because he could taunt me on the battlefield. Nothing prevented him from screaming in my head, of course. Since coming back, I avoided drawing his attention, leaving him no reason to focus upon me. "On occasion, yes. For reasons I am unsure of, he rarely bothers." She winced, lips thinning, shoulders hunching in."I gather he isn't so merciful to you."

"Ah…no. Since…." Cordelia shook her head, hair flying wildly. "Since I discovered I am capable of…" A flick of her wrist conjured a tiny black flame. My necklace pulsed, confirming my knowledge of Grima's power being channeled. "This, I've had this voice in my head …."

"Promising power, destruction, ruin of your foes, and so on?" Keeping the disdain from me tone proved harder than usual. She nodded. "I cannot promise it will ever stop, although, if ignored for long enough, he will probably leave you alone." It worked for me at least. "I will be honest, my experience in dealing with the Fell Dragon is rather limited…Fell Magic is by far the weakest of my abilities, for what I imagine are obvious reasons." Besides those, I could cause almost as much havoc via Mjolnir as I could with anything Grima used, without the bargain price of my soul. Given my conversation with Robin, I saw where this conversation might be headed., "And I would not be entirely comfortable teaching anyone magic, Fell or otherwise." Even Emmeryn required little 'teaching', so to speak, learning to cast the Divine Lances with so little input from me, I suspect Naga might have intervened herself.

"That's alright." Cordelia managed a reassuring smile, somewhat undercut by the way her entire body shrunk a little farther. "I…Gri taught Robin and I some, enough to 'not get possessed the first time Grima looked at you funny', a she put it." Well, that did paint an interesting picture of the woman, one entirely consistent with what I learned so far.

"Probably better than I could do, particularly in a short time frame." Seeing the confusion flash up, I acted to forestall the question. "As soon as the city is able to stand on its feet, and Plegia is assured to not be returning, we will depart."

For a long second, Cordelia didn't speak. "That's what you meant, about something being unpleasant?"

"More than likely." Given that I expected my reunion with Lucina to be with Naga watching, yes. "I am…somewhat displeased with the person we are looking for. She and I need to have a rather in-depth discussion involving a number of unpleasant topics." Not quite lies, but also hardly truths. The other reason I wanted to leave. These stories were getting more elaborate by necessity, and I didn't want the lie to fall apart now. "My half-sister can be more than a little hardheaded, and I fear that we are going to argue ourselves in circles for a while. She tends to act without thinking consequences through, and we but heads over it." Which was not untrue, Lucina and I did indeed argue over her tendency to act and solve the results on the fly, at least when we were younger. A few years into the war with Grima that died down, as we both mellowed, and the reality of war sunk in to us both.

"I see." Cordelia considered. "Yet you sound rather found of her?"

"My sisters?" In a split second decision, I concluded that it wouldn't hurt to be entirely honest. "For all our fighting, we're close. Their parents died fighting at the start of the war, so we are all the family we have. Of course, that didn't stop Lucy from running off on her own for Grima only knows what reasons." I frowned, realizing far too late some of my bad habits from the future were going to be frowned upon in this time. "I suppose with the Grimeal running about, I need to stop swearing to Grima."

That, of all things, prompted a true, honest laugh. "I don't think anyone is going to mind too much. Gri did the same, although she was raised to do so."

"Raised to…she was one of the Grimeal." That would explain her ability to kill Validar, to be certain, as clear up a few possibilities. Of course it raised half a dozen further questions, and threw out most of my understanding of this enigmatic woman out of alignment.

"According to Robin, until she was a teenager, when she…left." Likely violently. Good riddance. Anything that weakened the Grimeal deserved at least a chance. "Apparently they weren't kind to her, growing up."

"They worship a god devoted to bringing about the apocalypse. I dare say they lack the empathy or sense to raise a child, even in the best of circumstances." I tried not to shiver thinking about my own Mother, and the potentially implications thereof. However, discussions of the Grimeal raising children could wait until I possessed more knowledge of this Gri, either as an ally or an enemy. "Everyone speaks of her quite highly."

"Gri?" I nodded. "She was…is rather unique. I don't think any of us really knew anything about her, besides her prodigal skills with magic, her somewhat antagonistic relationship with Marth, and that most of the regular soldiers felt her to be the most terrifying woman they ever met." A former member of the Grimeal would be intimidating to those who were uninformed or ignorant, so that made sense. "She bore a rather striking resemblance to Robin, actually." Severa corroborated the story, having spent some time interrogating the regular soldiers. "Always insisted they weren't twins, or anything like that, but if not for the fact that Gri carried herself…differently, you couldn't have told them apart." Carried herself differently?

"I see." More useful, but equally, useless information. Whoever this former Grimeal woman was, I knew for certain her name was not Gri. Not only would the Grimeal consider such a thing presumptuous in the extreme, but it seemed like an excellent snub. "A mystery for me to mull upon at a later time." Cordelia shrugged, and I swept from the library, content to muse upon the new information.

 _ **-FE:DUL-**_

By the time I collapsed against a wall that evening, I sorely regretted promising to lend my limited Divine casting abilities to healing others. While it did not render me unconscious like Robin, prolonged usage of Naga's magic exhausted me. Whatever connection I bore to Naga, it was weaker than my connection to Grima, and restorative magic's went against everything Grima desired, making their use tiring. Healing myself could leave me gasping, never mind dozens of others. Not, of course, that I allowed such weakness to show.

For a while, I contemplated returning to the room that had been mine, or would be mine, as the case might be, and sleeping. It would feel good, to have a bed, a bath, and to let myself come to pieces for a few moments. But, if I did, I couldn't ensure Morgan, Court Mage of Valm, would return in one piece. Unfortunately, that façade carried precedence over my personal needs.

"Lady Morgan." And, of course, Frederick would come searching for me. Although limited, my memories marked him as a good man. He, above many others, did not deserve whatever horrible fate Grima engineered for him. That did not stop me from feeling a flash of resentment that whatever hope I had of slipping away and resting vanished.

"Sir Frederick. I would stand, but healing is not amongst my more refined skills." If forced, I could still fight and kill, however without that weight hanging over me, I elected to remain as I was, and rest.

The man's armor clanked as he came to a stop in front of me. "Lady Lissa asked me to find you, and ensure you were well." Of course she did.

"Humph." I must have looked worse than I felt. "I am merely drained, Sir Frederick. I will be fine come morning. Exhaustion heals with sleep alone." Not quite true, but enough truth to fool one without too much knowledge, such as Frederick.

"Somehow, I doubt that. While I am no expert in magic, or it's related fields, I am quite certain that you will need more than a single night's sleep on almost no rations to recover from everything you have been doing." And, of course, Frederick the Wary retained every bit of his sharp eye for detail in this time as he had during out times.

"Regardless, there is less healing to be done tomorrow unless more injured have been dragged from the rubble." Grima preserve if they had, I might well come to pieces from exhaustion.

"I am unaware of others yet." He offered me a hand. "Lady Morgan, you will be good to no one, us or your companions, if you cannot walk a dozen feet without collapse." I could, I simply did not want to, and had the luxury to make that choice. None the less, I accepted the hand, swaying a bit before 'finding' my feet.

"It is rare I have had the luxury to simply collapse and sit, Sir Frederick. It is…nice, and I try take the chance when possible." His expression morphed to confusion, for which I couldn't blame him. "Fighting is a constant of my life. Crossing the Plegian desert presented enough travails before the Grimeal returned, and none of us slept lightly after their first attack." Perhaps, another small piece of truth. "Even before that, much of my time could be consumed with studying or my duties."

"I see." I knew full well we were walking in the direction of the mess hall, a place I made a particular point of avoiding since coming here. Both for the social interaction, and the memories it no doubt would call up. For a while, the implications of my statement hung in the air, as I came to the realization I wouldn't get out of this without satisfying Frederick that I took at least basic care of myself. By the time he finally worked out the question, I managed to restrain myself from tearing apart the food in front of me, despite the urge to do so. "Surely one of your age would not have so much experience with warfare?"

"My sixteen years have not been kind, Sir Frederick.". In truth, age didn't mean much to me, but I held a reasonable degree of confidence I had lived for sixteen years, or so. "My childhood was brief, if relatively pleasant. Once my magic came, things changed." A true statement. The manifestation of my magic did indeed radically change things, both for me, and the others. "At first, I could not control my own magic, causing all manner of problems. Learning control took years of practice, and often destructive failure." For a moment, a wry smile played across my features. "Not exactly the typical way a nine-year-old would spend their days, I think."

Several gasps from our gathering listeners. "Age nine? Surely that would rather young to begin training?" Laurent's mother. Miriel. Purportedly just like her son, or rather, her son took after her.

At this point, I could probably cut my losses and avoid giving any further information. Of course, I would only be allowing them to draw their own conclusions at that point, and allowing the uneducated or uninformed to do so proved problematic. "Ordinarily, yes. However, I represent an anomaly, both in power and depth of magic. Where your conventional mage can easily perform magic focused on Fire and Wind, most will struggle to manifest Lightning, which I can do on a near subconscious level. This is due to one of two problems. Either a lack of power, or a lack of control. I occupy the opposite end of the spectrum."

"To much." At this point, my impromptu story/lecture had acquired an audience of nearly half the Shepherds, and one of the voices I didn't recognize immediately filled in the gap my slight pause left.

"There is no such thing as to much magic." Folding my hands, I tried to organize the information a bit more concisely. "Merely greater difficulty with control. The greater a person's innate magical strength, the more difficulty they have utilizing the basic Fire and Wind spells every mage is taught at the beginning of their education. In my case, I am almost unable to do so without substantial effort to restrain myself, or overpowering the spells, and accepting whatever mess results." With a flick of my wrist, and a whispered word, I created a fireball over my left hand. "Alternatively, exhaustion will suffice to limit my strength enough to use Fire." Letting the spell fade, I bit the inside of my cheek as the realization of my captive audience sank in. "This made learning magic a near suicidal endeavor, until we discovered my lack of control. Even now, years of learning and practice later, the weakest piece of Wind magic I can cast without hurting myself is Arcwind." Miriel, Ricken, and a few others sucked in a breath. "When I said I represent an anomaly, I perhaps understated things. I possess more raw magic than everyone in this castle, combined."

"Everyone?" Sumia, a younger less hardened version of the woman I knew, pipped up from the corner. Her eyes were wide, just a bit of awe lingering there.

"Everyone, yes." Pulling my cloak tight around my shoulders, I sighed. That statement meant nothing in context, so perhaps context was needed. "Lady Robin comes the closest to me in strength, with the Exalt being close behind her. I am told you fought against Validar." Addressing Robin directly I only waited a few seconds for her agreeing nod to continue. "From the descriptions of your battle, you were more or less evenly matched in strength. Validar, and his ilk borrow heavily from their God, allowing him to overwhelm you." Now for the speculative portion of this little talk. "The woman who killed Validar, Gri, is by necessity substantially more powerful."

"By necessity?" Cordelia pipped up. "I knew her to be quite powerful, but I don't understand what would necessitate her being so much stronger?" A good question all things considered.

"The spell she used to kill Validar." Fingers curling over my necklace, I pressed on. "In order to use that sort of magic, you need not only a rock solid connection to Grima, but a reserve of personal strength far above average. In theory, I am capable of such a feat, although I have no desire to sell my soul to the Fell Dragon." My necklace pulsed once, warmth flooding my limbs. "Not only that, but her usage of elemental teleportation suggests a great deal of skill, knowledge and power." I still didn't know how she made that work.

"What about the woman you fought during the battle?" Chrom. From the side of the room, leaning against a doorframe, he fixed me with a hard stare. "How's she fit into this?"

Now that, at least offered an easy answer. "She doesn't. Whoever she was, the woman I fought was possessed by Grima, and thus gifted with magic well beyond the abilities of any mortal." Now, for the shock of a lifetime. "Regardless of what you believe, I lost." A wave of protests from the less magically inclined rose up, but from the mages, I could see a bit more contemplation. Eyes narrowed, brows furrowed, and Cordelia bit her lip. "I claim great power, not godhood. While the human body is limited, Grima can push those limits in ways we cannot, it seems. Where I not exhausted from battle, perhaps I may have fared better." Only my knowledge of how Grima fought allowed me to survive the onslaught of magic and blades.

"After the first exchange of spells, I lost track of that battle entirely." Robin admitted, drawing startled looks. "Both for a lack of knowledge and because they both are more skilled than I." I hid my surprise, half smiling. "Maybe someone better with a sword than I could follow, but even that exceeded my abilities." Chrom, and several others voiced their agreement.

"Fortunately, I doubt you will face such a foe again. I got the feeling from their expressions that was a cold comfort.

 _ **-FE:DUL-**_

"So, what's this about you giving lectures on magic?"

Of course, Severa found me, late into the night, staring out over the city. Her usual smirk absent. Although we both knew that didn't really mean anything.

"Is there something you want, or are you just going to laugh at me?" I lacked the patience for dealing with Severa tonight. If she lacked anything valuable to say, I might well throw her out the window, or something of the sort.

"Believe it or not, your sister is worried about you." She leaned into the window, arms folding. Melancholy didn't suite Severa in the least, but Cynthia would never bring up whatever bothered her to me. "You're off, even for you, Morgan." Before I could ask the obvious question, Severa carried on. "More…pre-Mila tree Morgan." I flinched. "And whatever the hell happened with your Mom."

"I have spent the last week of my life weaving an ever more intricate lie, about a life I actually led, to people who I remember having died, about their deaths." I sighed, truly sighed. "When we went back in time, I consigned myself to never knowing the truth about my parents. No records existed of them, so my quest for that truth became pointless the moment we stepped into the Gate." My cloak rustled as I shifted my weight about. "Out there? At first? It was Grima. Possessing someone, who claims to be my Mother."

"We got that part." Brown eyes bored into the side of my head.

"Even at his weakest, I never could match Grima in open battle. At best, I drew even until Lucina arrived, and only when I engaged Grima well rested. Picking a fight with him after fighting for hours on end, drawing on Divine power the entire time, left me at a considerable disadvantage. Couple that with the power of his Vessel, and I did not win that battle Severa. Save for Mother, if that was her, I may will be the most powerful wielder of magic alive at this moment. Despite that accolade, I could not stand against Grima. Only because Mother fought against him."

While I didn't see the eye roll, I knew it happened. "Looked to me like you were winning."

"Because Grima fought with a disadvantage, and I know how to fight him." Both true. "And then my display after that…" None of them brought it up, but how I'd reacted to that claim had been less than ideal.

"Because when your Mom is supposedly the embodiment of all evil, blowing up at her totally a bad thing." Snark sounded far more reasonable from Severa. "I'm pretty sure we all get it Morgan. You panicked, flipped out, whatever."

"Yes." In essence, correct. "When is the last time I lost control?"

"Ylissetol. Mila Tree. Temple. My Birthday. Lucina's Birthday. Brady's Birthday."

Without thinking about it I growled, low in my throat. "Thank you Severa. I don't recall any of those incidents involving me going berserk." Well, the mess in that temple did, but we all agreed that had been fairly reasonable. I turned to glare, before my anger flooded out. "I am tired Severa. I am doing far more of the Princess thing that I have any business doing. Diplomacy, acting, lying…lying that is going to bite us later on down the road, when we want the help of all of your parents." Not for the first time the enormity of the task at hand sank in. "Lucina is a far better actor than I…which is why we created Marth. Yet, here I am, doing that exact same thing, with doubtlessly worse results."

"Gawds you worry too much." When I tried to glare, Severa rolled her eyes. "Morgan, you've probably the scariest person ever. You eat people's souls, can obliterate cities, and all sorts of crazy stuff none of us understand, while just smiling mysteriously. I don't think it's going to blow up in our face, considering you can outplan Grima, ya know?" She punched me in the shoulder, hard enough to stagger. "Relax. Gods, you're worse than the other two combined!"

"It is my job Severa. Someone has to keep you idiots alive." More or less. Lucina kept us alive. I told her how. That's how we defined out lives at one point. "I am not Lucina. I never will be. And right now, we need her more than ever…and she is farther away than ever." For a long while we watched the skies in silence. "This is the first break since Ylissetol." She grunted in agreement. "It's been my job to handle all the what ifs, and maybes, and other minute stupid details either of my sisters don't. I'm the brains, they're the charisma and optimism. We balanced each other. I kept us safe, they kept me sane…and now that I don't have that…it scares me, Sev. I scare me."

For that, she didn't have a snappy response.

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 **AN: AHAHAHAHAHHA….Morgan is weird. Didn't really intend to have a chapter in her POV for quite a while, but as soon as I started writing this chapter, it happened, and I think turned out pretty good for itself.**

 **She's also pretty fun, all things considered. Slowly coming apart at her own seams though. Yet another person for the hugs list. Even if she's not likely to get much more love for quite a while, she's got a fair way to travel yet. And a few more big colossal booms.**

 **Either way, we return to our regularly scheduled protagonists next week. Not sure who yet. Next two chapters can come in any order, so I'm not sure who we'll pick up with next.**

 **Reviews, comments, questions, and concerns always appreciated.**

 **I shall join you next week for our next installment of Bad Things Happen To People Who Don't Deserve It.**

 **Now if only writing this means I can get Morgan in Heroes. Maybe? Please?**


	30. Chapter Twenty-Eight: Compassion

**Quick Notice, in the interest of getting some stuff sorted out (like the tedium of renaming most of my files, as the folder for this story is an unholy mess), I will not be updating next week, so the next chapter will be out in two weeks.**

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 **Chapter Twenty-Eight: Compassion**

 **The Lady of Grima**

Having expected to die several times over the course of my life, waking up alive stopped surprising me, and instead transitioned into something rather underwhelming. Certainly, many years in the future, when my luck finally gave out, I would find death quite exhilarating, if only for the mystery of it, having come so close, only to survive over and over. However, as my consciousness drifted back into focus, the abrupt lack of pain struck me as strange, then, agony raced down from my left shoulder as the muscles flexed ever so slightly. If I harbored any doubt of my potential brush with death, that rectified them while raising a multitude of questions. I chose Lucina specifically because I expected her to kill me without hesitation, yet, I seemed to have suffered only a shoulder injury. Falchion might possess a great many powers I did not understand, but I did not believe it could undo possession, leaving me with more questions than answers.

Somewhere in the room, cloth rasped over steel, accompanied by the occasional rustle of clothing or armor. Based on the volume, whoever the person was, they were sitting fairly close by. Still, if they didn't recognize my waking, I could take a few seconds to consider the situation. With another exhale, I reached out, tentative at first, for my magic. Then, when the pain I expected didn't materialize, I let it flood back into my limbs, accepting the familiar warmth with a rush of satisfaction. The cold and itching I expected to engulf my shoulder didn't come, confirming my theory that the wound came from Falchion, and further imprinting the question of why I still drew breath on my consciousness.

Magic firmly under control, and thus able to defend myself if need be, I relaxed and opened my eyes. Lantern light threw dancing shadows about the room, suggesting night had fallen beyond the walls of the building. No change in the cloth and steel rasping, suggesting my watcher to be distracted, at least, not in a hurry to speak to me. Based on the patterns on the walls, I had been taken back to the Inn, which added to the questions of why Kjelle didn't finish me off. However, all the rest of me seemed to be in good working order, so, magic coiled to strike if need be, I sat up, gaze covering the room in a short distance.

Lucina occupied the rooms only chair, dragging a cloth across the dully shining blade of Falchion. Lines of worry sat at the corners of her eyes, and a small frown belied some inner turmoil I could not hope to guess. No doubt, her polishing the sword in her lap served to settle her mind, a habit I could appreciate, even if I rarely indulged in it myself. My armor lay at the far end of the bed, a rather obvious patch in the left shoulder, no doubt where Falchion struck. Leaning forward, I ran my fingers over the metal, half examining the quality of the mend, and half considering how to broach the topic at hand, or what that topic might even be.

"The local blacksmith did his best, after insisting him touching it qualified as heresy." No hint of her emotions bled into Lucina's words, not that I expected it too. Why she ensured my armor was repaired would be a question for a later time. Letting my fingers trail over the rest of the plates, I couldn't find any further damage from my battle with Morgan, nor any marks to suggest some was repaired.

Despite the situation, I managed a weak laugh. "Not up to the standard of the one who forged it originally, but competing with someone who's been forging weapons and armor for war their entire life is difficult." None the less, with some work, I could see the patch becoming almost invisible without any work. "Still, for someone who isn't used to working with this, they did well enough." I made a note to track down said blacksmith and thank them. Not many people would even attempt to repair any one part of my armor, never mind the intersection of the chain and plate at the shoulder.

"That is what I told him." Withdrawing my hand, my eyes were drawn down to considered the patchwork net of scars running down my arms, left for all and sundry to see with my cloak and armor removed. Most faded with time, although a few stood out starkly against my already pale skin, equally stark reminders of various events in my past, of memories I no longer hand in many cases. As I lost myself in thought, Lucina made no move to stand, approach, or move her focus from Falchion, and I made no attempt to distract her. I couldn't say what exactly ran through her mind, but it seemed safe to assume that recent events weighed heavily upon her conscience. While my initial method of expunging Grima resembled suicide, I never attempted to take my life after that. Then again, asking Lucina to strike me dead seemed perilously close to the same thing. No matter how I tried to rationalize, all lines of thought led back to that same conclusion, and the reality that Lucina would surely reach it too. Unbidden a flash of regret built in my chest, for long enough to be recognized and then squashed.

"I would think after centuries of living; I would outlive cowardice." I didn't really speak to Lucina, more putting the words out in the world, letting the verbalization form them from an abstract concept into something more concrete. "Yet I am continually proven wrong." My right hand traced the almost invisible line of a wound down my left arm, an injury Grima never managed to quite heal, dragging myself from the uncomfortable memories it brought. "Morgan is in Ylisse." Lucina paused, worry coiling about her slim frame, her right hand slipping towards the hilt of the blade in her lap. "Severa, Cynthia, Laurent and Yarne are with her." At least, those were the ones I had seen or felt. "The Shepherds will survive, although Ylissetol will be worse for it." The city had been ravaged by the battle long before Grima took me there against my will, and Plegia would doubtlessly retreat, the Grimeal spirits broken by the defeat of the Avatar of their God. "Whatever plan Robin concocted seemed to give Plegia no end of trouble."

"Enough for Grima to take notice." A factual statement, lacking the sort of judgment that it would have had even weeks ago. I couldn't bring myself to keeping looking at her, in spite of that.

"No." I didn't think Grima really cared about that battle. Its outcome would change little of his plans, or actions. Given everything that transpired, that sounded counter-intuitive. "Whether Ylissetol stood or fell doesn't concern Grima, only that thousands of lives are expended. From his perspective, if the city stood, upon resurrection, he would simply obliterate it, and any suggestion of ones who might resist his reign." A heavy silence descended on us. "Morgan's presence in the city drew his attention, of course, but even she did not register as enough of a threat for Grima to consider the battle worthy of personal attention."

"I see." With a rustle, Lucina moved, I guessed to lean forwards, based upon what I knew of her.

"He went after me, because I presented an easy target. Magically weak, emotionally exhausted, and with only the protection of a Divine weapon I was raised to despise, Grima believed he could overwhelm me, even in his weakened state." No excuse, or even justification, merely the facts as they were. I saw no reason to hide that truth. "While the fall of Ylisse is not required for his resurrection, no one will doubt that House Ylisse is the greatest potentially impediment, and a fully created Avatar already possessed once, provided a perfect vehicle for their downfall." Still, Lucina did not speak or react. "Whatever Sumia did, she turned you three into some of the most terrifying enemies of the Grimeal, despite your age." A huff of surprise got covered up by my continued words. "No other group, even organized military forces, could inflict the damage you did. Plegia fell in weeks. Ferox collapsed the moment Grima tore the souls of the Khan's from their bodies and used the corpses for battle-standards. You, Cynthia, and Morgan rallied a small group of teenagers and stood your ground against the Fell Dragon for almost a decade. Even Valm, with years of forewarning, collapsed in months." Letting that hand in the air for a while, I added a thought that only occurred as I spoke. "I don't believe Morgan realized who I was, at least in the beginning."

Because the city is still standing?" A note of wry humor crept into the words, the first bit of humanity from Lucina since I woke up.

"Because I am not dead." While dark, I felt the statement held some truth. "And, perhaps, because she had been fighting for some time before Grima arrived. Despite that, she fought him to a standstill, with blade and magic. A weakened, embattled Grima, but Grima none the less." Although my influence on the initial fight between them was minimal, given my own exhausted state, I could prevent Grima from casting Extinction, or other nigh-uncounterable magic, and thus allow Morgan to stand her ground in magical combat. "She fought him long enough for me to regain some measure of control." The first, true admission of my own failure, no doubt the first of many to come left me silent.

Lucina allowed the quiet, her stare lingering on me, palpable, yet carrying no weight. I could imagine any one of the questions she wanted to ask, even could find the exact way to phrase those questions to make them sting, dig into my psyche to inflict the maximum damage, even if I knew Lucina would not do that. For all her emotions, the Future Princess never exhibited cruelty, something I found myself envious of. Few of my enemies died in a manner that might be called merciful, even my own Father suffered an agonizing death at my hands, albeit a deserved one. In all the times I witnessed Lucina fight, either in the Future, or in this timeline, she killed quick, clean and mercifully, and agonized over those deaths.

"When I wrestled some small measure of control back, I revealed that truth to Morgan. And came within a hairs breath of dying there and then." Laughter, both alien and my own at the same time, drifted from my lips. "Anger lends a strength that experience and practice do not."

"I imagine Morgan would disagree." Another hint of amusement and I could just imagine the slight curve of Lucina's lips turning upwards before her mask settled into place once again.

I shrugged. "I have seen many people, filled with rage and hatred stand their ground against superior foes for far longer than they should. There are those who lay blame for the miserable state of the world at my feet and sought to strike me down. Universally, they met little success, yet many of them would persist in their resistance for far long after they had been defeated." Such a dry way of admitting I killed them, in the end. Most, I tried to avoid killing or even injuring badly. Some understood they were outclassed, and spitting invective would retreat. Others persisted, and I found myself with no choice but to strike them dead. I risked a quick glance towards Lucina, although I did not meet her eyes, unwilling to find the judgment or lack thereof. "You are a fine example of the principle." I saw the question form, and dragged my eyes away, plowing ahead to try and keep from wandering from the point, and unwilling to drag forth the explanation of my words. "I do not know what opinions or feelings Morgan might have towards me, but in those short moments, they culminated in an outpouring of anger and violence quite unlike any I have seen from her before."

"When Morgan does show anger, it rarely ends without some degree of violence," Lucina admitted, the faintest hint of worry bleeding past her control. "It used to scare Cynthia and I." No doubt it would. Even as a child, Morgan likely could inflict serious damage with magic. "Her feelings towards you were never well defined and became less so as we grew older. Most of us learned to avoid broaching the subject because doing so could be considered a gamble. Sometimes, she would be quite rational about you, and other times, she could be quite…aggressive." With a snort, Lucina leaned back, the chair creaking beneath her. "Of course, at those times, you were assumed to be someone entirely different from the Lady of Grima. Even I cannot guess how she might react now."

Although I doubted could see, I smiled. "Incoherent screams and extreme violence. Where I less powerful, or less experienced, I would be dead in the streets of Ylissetol, just from her first strike." I didn't have any right to feel pride in the fact that my daughter, of flesh and blood, carried enough power to stand her ground against me, of course. Now, I knew for certain that Sumia guessed the truth behind the child on her doorstep, and the death of her husband, having fought against Morgan. "As it stands, she left an impressive trail of devastation, bringing the entire battle to a halt while everyone watched." Not that I thought Morgan noticed those things, with her single-minded determination to strike me dead, and near success. "I could have stayed, and fought, and likely won. Yet…I couldn't face her. Look my own daughter in the eyes, and tell her the truth. Cowardice, in the end." If I expected some kind of judgment from Lucina, I got none. "So, I fled." More laughter, this time much more familiar bubbled up. "The irony. The Lady of Grima, a coward." No longer able to find a reason to stare at the wall, I returned my focus to Lucina at last. "You, of course, know the rest."

"I do." The worry settled onto her face again, lines I never noticed before weighing upon her usual untouchable appearance. We had danced across the point without ever addressing it for long enough already, I decided, as my chest tightened.

With a deep breath, words tumbled out. "I fail to see why killing me is so difficult." The words fell heavily, as they often did between us. In the end, I couldn't find the answer to the question of my continued survival, and I needed that answer.

A stony defiance settled on her face, the lines of worry fading behind the façade I knew so well. "You are assuming I want you dead, or would consider your death acceptable." Her expression dared me to defend that very assumption. Something about her phrasing struck me as odd, but I chose to ignore that for the time being.

"Yes. We are mortal enemies, begrudgingly allied against a common enemy, as I have understood things. While it is true that perhaps things between us have…changed somewhat, you saw me failing to resist Grima. I don't see any reason why you would not take an opportunity to finish what you started at the Mila Tree." A few sparks of white danced across her eyes, as, for the faintest of seconds, a presence washed over the room, the Lady of Naga asserting herself before being pushed aside.

For several minutes Lucina sat in silence, Falchion pulsing softly in her lap, soothing magic starting to suffuse the room. When she did finally speak, her words carried a remarkable certainty. "With perhaps one exception, since we met, you have expended every effort to win my trust, including placing your own life in my hands. You have answered my questions, with information that, as close as I can determine, is truthful." Her lips quirked upwards, a hint of a smile forming for a few seconds, then vanishing behind that same stony mask. "You haven't killed Kjelle, not that she made that easy for you."

"If you tried to attack me then, I wouldn't have stayed." Lucina shrugged, as we both knew that to be the weakest link of her argument. "Regardless of our allegiance to each other, you need information, information I have. Thus, it stands to reason that I should provide you with such information." Spreading my hands, I let the statement hang for a moment. "As for gaining your trust, you are a formidable warrior and possess a weapon capable of killing Grima. My stated goal being his death, I would be remiss if I did not at least attempt to gain your assistance." I tasted blood, not realizing I bit the inside of my cheek. "The idea that you would want me to be around, or would not hold a grudge against me for all of the things I have done, that happened because of me, Lucina, is preposterous. I have had centuries to attempt to forgive myself and came up short. Thus, the idea that you would forgive, or trust, me, simply doesn't hold weight." As I finished, my eyes dropped, suddenly unwilling to watch her expression change.

 _ **-FE:DUL-**_

 **Lady of Naga: Lucina**

Even exhausted, and magical drained, Arielle could command a room by sheer presence alone. In a short time, this entire little town knew the two of us and offered the sort of deferential respect I knew from my short life as a Princess. Without her cloak and armor, she could command respect and attention, and even in her moments of levity, the occasional light-hearted jabs we traded in the past few days, Arielle demanded unconscious respect.

Staring at her, sitting on the bed, I came the abrupt realization of exactly who I was speaking too, and what cracks existed in that persona.

"In Ylisse, before the attempted assassination, when the Shepherds seemed bent on the two of us being involved with each other, I told you I tried to hate you. That for a time, I did hate you." She nodded, still refusing to look in my direction, hair falling in such a way as to obscure her expressions, although I knew the grimace that would linger there. No doubt, the Lady of Grima believed this to be the point where I finally worked past my compunctions and struck her down. "But, at that point, I didn't explain very well why I could not bring myself to do so." At the time, I barely could explain why I couldn't hold the past, or future in our case, against her.

"Yes. We drifted from the topic rather quickly." She murmured, half to herself, half for my own benefit.

"At that time, my feelings about you were…conflicted. Although I couldn't find it in me to hate you, I did not trust you, not fully, at that moment. Our…disagreement remained fresh on the mind, and your murder of several clergy of Naga did little to assuage my concerns." She snorted, traditional dark humor rising to the surface once again. I knew that for a brief moment her expression would have shifted, even if I didn't see it. "Letting you perform magic that night was a calculated risk. I know enough to know if you are doing something lethal, and I could have interrupted your casting." Or, I believed I did, from watching Morgan learn, and Mother practice. Recent days suggested that many gaps existed in my knowledge, but that didn't matter to the conversation at hand. "At the time, I didn't see it as such, of course, being so emotionally overwrought that I suspected you intended to kill me with my own sword, for the sake of irony."

"I did not realize that could be interpreted as an outcome of that scenario until well too late to change course." A long silence, in which I relied upon the rippling sensation of her breathing to remind myself that she wasn't a statue. "It was a bit of an odd ritual from the far Future…one I forgot did not yet exist." Although she couldn't see, I nodded in acceptance of the unspoken apology, and the new information.

"Looking back, it seems like a calculated risk. A chance for you to prove you meant everything you said and were not out to kill me, or any of the others. Retrospectively, you passed that test with flying colors." Experience told me she would object, as did the turn of her head, so I cut her off. "Arielle, outside of a single episode during the assassination, which you snapped out of the moment I interrupted you, and something you just admitted happened as a result of emotional and magical exhaustion, _combined,_ two things which are unlikely to happen to you again, even have happened to you very many times at all, despite being over seven or eight hundred years old, you have shown no inclination to being possessed, have fought against the Grimeal consistently, and killed your own Father! Even when Grima took advantage of the weakest you have been in…centuries," She made no move to dispute my educated guess, and I drove onwards, "You still fought back." While mentioning Morgan could be a bad idea in that moment, I didn't have much of a choice. "Even at the worst, Morgan did her very best to avoid using Grima's magic, fearing that she would be possessed, and unable to resist." Arielle turned her head, piercing grey eyes abruptly alive with magic, and life. "My sister is a genuine Sorceress, by your admission, capable of standing up to Grima himself, yet even she considers herself unable to fight off possession, something you did, at a moment of extreme weakness, with marked success."

"Your point, Lucina?" I knew that edge, having spent so much time with the woman, and considered my next words with far greater care, rising from the chair, grasping the Falchion from my lap in my right hand, lifting the other from the table nearby in my left. As I did, Arielle's eyes flickered from blade to blade, no hint of magic there, even though I knew the full might of the Sorceress lay coiled just beneath, fully prepared to defend herself.

"My point, Arielle, is that you are wallowing in self-pity." Her eyes narrowed. Perhaps tactless, but she never cared for tact, when a direct to the point statement would work just as well, a trait I found myself favoring, at this point. "Even in the worst possible circumstance, you still fought back against Grima, to the point that my shoving your sword in your shoulder provided you the ability to push him from your mind and body." Her mouth opened, eyes widening, and expression slackening with surprise just long enough to show I caught her by surprise. No doubt, she believed something I did expunged Grima from her. "You are far stronger than you give yourself credit for being." Flipping my right-handed blade, I offered her the hilt of _her_ Falchion. "I will not kill you, Arielle, because there is no reason to do so. You wield Falchion, just as I do, which is a testament to your character. You, Arielle. Not the Lady of Grima." Her expression sharpened, small flecks of purple circling through her eyes, and the eyes of her hair starting to shimmer with magic, the now familiar pressure settling across my shoulders. "I consider you a friend, ally, and equal…killing you would be petty revenge, exacted on the wrong person. If I am to hold you responsible for Grima's crimes, then I am hardly better than Grima himself." Purple fire flashed down her hair, now swaying in the vortex of energy as the Lady of Grima asserted herself. "We need you for this Arielle." Her eyes flickered from me the sword, and back again. For a long time, she seemed to be searching for something in me, purple magic light accenting the grey of her eyes in a manner both mesmerizing and frightening. Whether she found what she wanted or not, I couldn't say, but just when I considered stepped back, her fingers wrapped around the hilt of her sword, and it took all my control not to flinch back from the sudden cold of her skin. The sword came to life, recognizing its master's unique touch, and responding to it in a way it did not to mine. Before she could pull away, I caught her wrist, keeping our eyes locked despite the overwhelming desire to back away. "I need you, Arielle." A sudden warmth wrapped around me, Arielle's hand warming just a bit under my own. From the corner of my eye, I could see bits of purple light dancing around our wrists.

* * *

 **AN: I really don't know if I hate these two or not. They make life so much more difficult sometimes. I had the next chapter all written up until those two idiots barged in with this sappy mess. Then again, I enjoyed writing it…mostly. That, and since I'm taking a break next week to sort some stuff out so my workflow isn't such a mess, leaving Arielle's status up in the air for over a month is kinda a dick move, and I do try and avoid being that much of a dick.**

 **I don't believe I have anything further to say (surprising I know), so I will see you in two weeks for the next installment of Bad Things Happen To People Who Don't Deserve It.**

 **Questions, Concerns, Comments and Reviews are always appreciated. I'm terribly bad at replying to them, but I do read them, and appreciate them a great deal. Until next time!**


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